What You Want
by sss979
Summary: Falling in love creates a hell of a lot of confusion for Face, especially when prodded along by the efforts of the woman's two teenage kids. Assumes familiarity with Season 4 episodes, and series books Nature of Trust, What Happens in Vegas, and To Save a Life. BOOK 12 of 19. PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE!
1. Prologue

Rating: R

Summary: Falling in love creates a hell of a lot of confusion for Face, especially when prodded along by the efforts of the woman's two teenage kids. Assumes familiarity with Season 4 episodes, and series books Nature of Trust, What Happens in Vegas, and To Save a Life. PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE!

**Author's Note - PLEASE READ!**: NORMALLY I advise that the there is an order these books go in, but you can read them out of order if you so choose. However, I'm going to kindly ask that you NOT read this book first if, by reading it, you hope to evaluate my style and quality of writing. It's a "Face falls in love" book, which is - by definition - fangirly. I ordinarily hate reading, let alone writing, this type of book. However, it was just not feasible to take this relationship for granted and just throw in a line somewhere to say, "Then there was love."

Warnings: Sex. Dear God, we hope. At some point. Finally.

**PROLOGUE**

Silence. Face sat in the driveway, hands on the steering wheel and head on his hands. It was dark. Late. He was exhausted. The drive from San Francisco back to LA had taken longer than it should have. Thoughts wandering, he hadn't been paying attention. Wrong turns and detours had added almost an hour to his trip. He'd had too much on his mind to care.

The phone startled him. Jerking awake, he sat up straight and looked around. Then, rubbing his forehead with one hand, he reached for the phone with the other.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Faceman! I heard you called. What's up?"

Murdock. Face shut his eyes. Why was it so exhausting just to hear someone else's energy? In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder when was the last time he'd felt so drained. It wasn't the drive. It wasn't even the lack of sleep over the past few days. He'd been out on missions with the team that had left him far more physically tired. It was the emotional exhaustion - the fact that anything inside of him that could feel had been mashed underneath a steam roller somewhere between good intentions and the ultimate outcome.

Damn it... Now he was getting poetic. That was never a good sign.

"Just, uh, called to see how you were doing."

Murdock laughed. "I'm doing just fine. But since when do you call just to chat?"

Face sighed deeply, and leaned forward on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry. I just... It's been a rough couple of days."

The laughing, carefree tone immediately left Murdock's voice. "What happened?"

"No, it's just..." Face laughed, without humor. "Jessica's daughter ran off to Vegas. And while I was there I found out that a friend of mine died."

"Man, Face, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, just... She left a letter with a mutual friend and..." He chuckled again. "She wanted me to call you. It's the closest thing I have to a last request. At least one I can fulfill."

"Call _me_?" Murdock asked, surprised. "Why?"

"Well, I'd talked to her about you before. Mentioned, really. It was a long time ago but... yeah."

Murdock paused for a long moment before he finally replied. "So are you gon' be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." The porch light went on, and he looked up as the front door of the dark house opened. A blond woman wrapped tightly in a dark, floor-length robe stepped out onto the porch, staring at his car. "I just wanted to touch base."

"Hannibal should be back tomorrow," Murdock reminded him. "Betcha it doesn't take him 24 hours to get us another job."

Face smiled faintly. "You're probably right. Though I think right now, I could really use it."

The woman walked the length of the sidewalk, shuffling her bare feet slowly as she crossed in front of his car. "I'll let you go, Murdock," Face said, watching her. "Get a good night's sleep, huh?"

"You too, Face. Talk to you later."

He hung up the phone just as Jessica stopped beside the open driver's side window and leaned down to look at him. "You know, you don't have to sit in the driveway," she whispered. "All you had to do was knock."

"Sorry," he sighed. "I was on the phone."

"You've been here for a while. I was wondering how long it was going to take you. But I'm going to bed now, so I need to know your intentions before I lock up."

He smiled faintly at the professionalism, and sighed as he looked up at her. "Do you mind if I stay with you tonight?"

"Is everything alright?" she asked quietly.

"It's fine," he whispered back. He swallowed hard as he searched her eyes through the thick, nighttime shadows. Slowly, he reached up to touch the side of her face, and forced a smile. "I just don't want to be alone right now. I think I'm afraid of the dark."


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

Colonel Roderick Decker stopped pacing around his office to pause and put one hand on the nameplate that was resting on his desk. His mind wandered as his fingers absently traced the engraving. Rank. That had been part of his identity for decades, all the way back to when he was a green eighteen-year-old kid just entering West Point. He had spent four years there, reading and training for leadership. His next twenty-five years had been spent putting his training to use. From Korea to Vietnam to Central America and home again, on bases and battle fields all over the world, he had dedicated himself to three things: duty, honor, and country. Even when he was being spit on and called a baby killer by the very people he was willing to die for, he had never lost sight of that code, never doubted the course he had chosen. Until now.

Collapsing down into the chair behind his desk, he put his head in his hands. It was after ten o'clock, and he was pretty sure he was the only one left in the office. He was glad. He didn't really want to talk to anyone right now. He hadn't told anyone yet that he was being reassigned. He didn't want to talk about it, to try and keep a positive attitude about a move that he, quite simply, hated.

It stung so deeply, so personally, that it was almost shocking. It wasn't that he was naïve about Army politics. After all, he had been a notable figure in a vastly unpopular, unsuccessful war. Rather than put the blame for failure where it belonged - on the backs of the politicians and protesters who had no concept of what war was, and what needed to be done to win it - the Army had turned their failure against its officers. Like him.

Not that he had complained. No, he had kept right on serving. Duty, honor, and country. Even as his career stalled and his talents and experience were spurned in favor of kids who couldn't lead ducks to a pond, he kept serving. Like the soldier he was born, bred and trained to be, he had taken it without a flinch, without a word. But this time, he was shaken.

It wasn't that he wanted to go on the rest of his life chasing Hannibal Smith around Los Angeles. But damned if he wanted to simply give up. His new orders would be in effect in thirty days. If he didn't have Smith by then, the Army would never let him achieve that goal. Something about that - the fact that, in the end, the cocky bastard would win again - had him gritting his teeth. That man had been a pain in his ass from the very beginning of his military career. Smith had made a mockery of everything Decker lived for. Hannibal Smith's code had no room for anything but his team. He had never followed the rules, never even thought they applied to him. Worse, he had never once been held accountable for anything he had done.

And yet, Smith was the golden child in Vietnam - General Westman's very own "go to man." He bucked the system, ignored the rules, did what ever he damned well pleased. And he was rewarded at every turn. He could do no wrong. And when he was finally caught red handed, doing something that no one could justify, he ran like a coward. He'd used Army-trained men and equipment to rob the Bank of Hanoi, lining his pockets with blood money while soldiers were dying. To Decker, that proved beyond any shadow of a doubt what type of officer, what type of man Smith really was. It was a slap in the face to everyone who served in that damned war. Duty, honor, and country was a joke to Smith, like Decker himself was.

Decker had dedicated years to catching Smith and his team. To finally have them exposed to their peers and the world for the criminals they were had been his sole purpose. He'd put everything he had into this job and sacrificed his reputation, his personal life, and all of his energy without complaint. He wasn't the only one who'd put it all on the line. Crane had given him one hundred percent and in return for that, he would never make another promotion. No one would sign off on promoting someone who was tied to such a public failure.

If he had the time, Decker knew he _would _bring Smith in. Either that, or he would die trying. But the simple fact of the matter was, he didn't have the time. Decker knew there was no way in hell someone like "Bull" Fullbright stood a chance of catching the A-Team. He didn't have the understanding or the creativity to think like Smith. Besides, when push came to shove, Fullbright wouldn't bend the rules, and Smith would use that to slip away again and again.

Forcing himself to sit straight and tall, Decker thought about everything he had been through, everything he had done, everything he was. There was no way he could just walk away from this. The Army could replace him, send him off to a dead end job to be forgotten, and he would go without a complaint. But one thing was for damn sure. No matter where they sent him, the A-Team would never be far from his thoughts. It wasn't just about the assignment, and his chances for advancement. It was personal. And he would _personally_ see Hannibal Smith and his team behind bars.

***X*X*X***

"So tell me about this fear of the dark."

Face opened his eyes, watching Jess as she set her hairbrush on the dresser, running her fingers through her long blond hair a few times. She studied him curiously in the mirror's reflection as she removed her earrings and set them in the open jewelry box.

Face didn't move. Lying on his stomach, head resting on his arms, he'd been still for so long she hadn't been sure if he was even awake. His eyes remained locked with his for a moment, then closed again. He didn't answer, or offer any reaction whatsoever to the question.

She looked at him quietly then turned to him and crossed the few steps to the bed. He didn't move, didn't look up again as she shed her robe and hung it on the bedpost before slipping under the blankets in the floor-length nightgown. She didn't press close to him. Really, she couldn't have even if she'd wanted to. He was still fully dressed and lying on top of the blankets.

"Oh, come on, Face," she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "You can't be that tired."

"Wanna bet?"

Her touch lingered, stroking his cheek lightly before she pulled her hand back. "If you are, then why come here?"

He sighed deeply and shifted, turning his head in the opposite direction. "Not to sit on your couch, doctor."

With a quiet laugh, and she turned onto her stomach, pulling her arms under her head, like him. "Come on. I won't even charge you."

"No, thanks."

"I'm a good listener, you know."

"I'm not a very good talker."

"That's okay. I'll still listen."

He didn't answer, but turned his head toward her again. His eyes opened, and he watched her quietly for a moment. She smiled. "I'm curious," she prodded gently.

"About what?"

"About you." She shifted, pulling the pillow up under her head. "About your fear of the dark."

"What about it?"

She studied him quietly, and he didn't look away. He seemed tired, but not tetchy. And he _had _come to her, after all; she hadn't chased him down. She hadn't pried that confession out of him, either - his fear of the dark. He'd offered that on his own. And the flash of openness made something deep inside of her respond with curiosity, as well as a need to offer him a safe place to share his thoughts. He wouldn't, she knew. It was too much like intimacy and he wanted none of that. But the offer had to be made.

"It's not what I expected," she whispered.

"What were you expecting?"

She smiled. He was so good at that - turning the conversation back on her. But she was starting to get the hang of his game. And in this round at least, she had the upper hand. He was in her territory, and he'd come here willingly. That gave her something to play with.

"What does it mean, Face?"

He sighed, and pushed himself up. For a moment, she thought he might be getting up to leave. But he didn't go far. He shrugged his shoulders out of his jacket as he walked to the chair near the door and draped it carefully over the arm. His shirt followed, and he left it on the chair as well.

"I've got a pair of sweatpants, if you want them."

He shook his head. "No. Thanks."

"You sure?"

He didn't answer, just lay back down beside her, on top of the blankets again. He sighed as he settled, watching her quietly. She didn't speak. Finally, he took a deep, slow breath. "When you asked me to stay with you," he started hesitantly, "at the hotel room in Las Vegas. Why?"

She could feel her cheeks redden at the memory. He was turning the conversation back on her again. Jess should have called him on it, but something about this tone stopped her. He seemed almost unsure, and that was something rare to see.

"I was..." She stopped herself from sweeping the entire night under the rug with "I was drunk." She _had _been drunk, but all that had done was to take away her inhibitions and allow her to say the things she wanted to say. Face would know that. She took a deep breath.

"I just wanted to feel... safe." She ducked her head. "I came so close to losing Heather. Spent so many hours worrying, wondering what was going to happen to her. I just needed a place to be safe and let go and know that..." Why was this so hard to say? She felt like she was in confession. "Know that someone else was looking out for me."

He eyed her with an expression that was completely unreadable. Curiosity? Concern? Worry? Was there anything even there at all?

"Did you?" he finally asked.

"Did I what?"

"Feel safe?"

Her brow creased. She was confused by the question. If she hadn't been safe with him that night, did he really think he'd be lying in her bed right now? "Of course."

"If you understand that, you shouldn't need to ask me why I'm here."

She watched him for a moment, then lowered her eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up. Of course that's all he wanted. It was no surprise. But even so, there was a feeling settling in her chest that made her want to cry. He always found the nicest possible ways to reject her, but it was rejection nonetheless. And it hurt, somewhere deep inside where she didn't like to go. Underneath layer after layer of reasons why she didn't want him was the truth of the matter: He didn't want her. And she couldn't push him away far enough or fast enough to keep that reality from sinking in.

"I wasn't sure about coming here," he admitted quietly. "But I didn't want all the expectations of finding someone else when... that's not what I need."

"What do you need?" she asked timidly.

He was quiet for a moment before he glanced back up at her. "I just don't want to be alone tonight."

Jess smiled tightly, and reached out to gently brush the hair out of his eyes again. Like a little boy, it kept falling back again. "Face, you're always welcome here. No strings. Okay?"

He smiled faintly, and raised a hand to hold the back of her head gently as he tipped his head toward hers, touching their foreheads. For just a moment, it caught her off guard. It seemed intimate - the kind of gesture shared between lovers, not friends. Especially when he was lying in her bed, dressed or not. But he didn't flinch at the closeness.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she managed.

He closed his eyes, and relaxed onto his back. With his hand still in her hair, he guided her closer and put an arm around her. She didn't resist, but she could feel her brow furrowing. Hadn't he just said...? She didn't know what to think about the way he was holding her. Not that she minded it; his arm around her felt peaceful and calm and _right_. But she couldn't think about that. He'd just said that all he wanted was a safe place.

He didn't say another word. In a few moments, she heard his breathing deepen and she pulled back just enough to look at him. He was asleep - quiet and peaceful. He looked so innocent when he slept. Actually, he looked just like James.

She smiled softly as she brushed his hair back from his forehead yet again. Face sexualized every damn thing; he _oozed _sex appeal. Did he even realize that this wasn't the kind of behavior "friends" normally engaged in? That was hard to tell. If she had to guess, she'd say he probably hadn't had many friends in his life outside of his team. He wasn't trying to give her mixed signals; she was sure of that. It was all consistent in his own mind. She was a friend, a safe place, and he needed companionship and safety. She was happy to give that. There was no way she could refuse to give him that

She lay her head back down, setting it on his shoulder as she nuzzled him gently. As she drifted off, she realized in some far corner of her mind that if this was all he ever wanted from her, she would be fine with that. She was perfectly content right now, wrapped in his warm embrace.


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

Heather stood in James' room, shaking her head in disbelief. She had been at the window, peeking around the curtains, watching as the two figures on the porch below held hands for just a few seconds longer. They acted like kids, exchanging a modest, almost platonic kiss, and a long embrace. They didn't want to let go of each other, but they could never get past anything more than that casual, closed kiss. Even the night before, when Heather had peeked out the door and watched her mother lead Face into her bedroom, it was perfectly clear there would be nothing other than innocent cuddling going on.

It was downright pathetic.

Heather knew how this would end. Her mother would be starry-eyed for a few days. For just a little bit, the world would be a wonderful place. Then, just as she was about to give them some freedom, Mom would pull back. Everything would go back to being "too dangerous" and no amount of arguing or logic would make her believe otherwise. The only hope they had would be when Face called her again.

If it wasn't for the way Face looked at her - the way Heather could tell he was at least trying to be sincere - she'd be pissed off at him for playing this game. But it was almost as if he didn't realize what he did to her. The naivete was beginning to creep under Heather's skin.

She sighed as she turned to James. "You know, I wish he'd just do her and get it over with."

James didn't look up from his biology book. "First, yuck. Second, who? Face?"

Heather shot him a sarcastic look. "You know of anyone else who makes her all weird every time he comes to visit?"

James smiled knowingly, but still didn't raise his head. "What makes you think he hasn't done her?"

She rolled her eyes, flopping down on the bed and glared briefly at her own open book. "He won't even kiss her good night. Not for real."

James shrugged. "You know how Mom is."

"I know she is way more tolerable around _him_."

Finally James put down his book and looked at her with suspicion. "Just what are you thinking?'

"I'm thinking he's not trying hard enough."

It was James' turn to shake his head. "Heather, every time you get that tone in your voice, you're thinking about doing something that's going to get us in bigtrouble."

She smiled wickedly and her brother knew he'd hit the nail right on the head. Heather waited for the protest. James would try and talk her out of it and she'd ignore him. Then she would do what she wanted and he would follow along. They both knew how this went.

He pushed his eyeglasses up, then stared at her, looking at her the same way he looked at one of his calculus problems. "I am not getting involved in another one of your schemes."

She laughed. "Oh, come on. At least hear me out."

"No. I'm not getting involved in one of _your _schemes." There was something in his eyes, and the way he emphasized his words, that had her raising a brow in interest. "But I may be willing to be _partners_."

Heather blinked at him in frank shock. But really, she shouldn't have been shocked. She knew he liked Face a hell of a lot more than the other assholes Mom dated. They both did. But still, to hear straightedge James ready and willing to plot, was... It was awesome, she decided.

With a huge grin she sat up straight and looked at him. "What did you have in mind, brainiac?"

There was a brief silence as he chewed the end of his pencil. Not only was that totally gross, it was also something he did when he was deep in thought. It was all she could do to keep from laughing. James wasn't kidding, he really _was_ going to help her.

Speaking slowly, James asked her, "What do we really know about Face?"

"He drives a bitching car and dresses like a playboy."

"Right, we'll need to know more."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Stuff."

She rolled her eyes. "Not helpful."

He pointed the semi-chewed eraser at her. "Mom hasn't gone out with anyone besides Face in a while, has she?"

"No. If you can even call whatever she does with Face 'going out'."

"Because they swear they're not dating."

"Which is bullshit. They go to movies, the beach, dinners, and God knows where all else. They do it alone. And it's not like she sees anyone else anymore."

"Maybe that's the problem."

There was smugness in James' voice that Heather wasn't used to hearing. She smiled as she put the pieces together. "You want to make him jealous."

"Know any reason why it wouldn't work?"

Heather paused for a long moment, considering the options. "We could do it," she finally declared. "_I_ could do it."

"You know that Mom will kill us if she finds out."

Heather laughed at that. "Hell Jamie, I'm a lot more worried about what _Face_ would do to us if he finds out."

She watched his eyes widen at that thought. Damn, was he going to chicken out now?

But no, he just looked away. There was no more defeat in his tone when he spoke again than there had been before. "There's a lot of ways that this could go wrong. You know that, right?"

"But what if it goes right?"

He didn't answer her, not right away. James got that faraway look in his eyes that let her know he was all in, long before he nodded his head. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his notebook from its spot on the bed next to him. James was scribbling notes, completely focused on his - no, _their_ - latest adventure. Without bothering to lookup from his rapid writing, James started plotting.

"The first thing any good plan needs is information."

*X*X*X*

Murdock smiled at the kid standing in front of him, trying hard to not to look nervous. He was a carbon copy of Face at that age. Granted, he was a much less angry kid than Face had been. But still, the resemblance was startling. The only difference was the look in the eyes. In Vietnam, Face's eyes either held the cold, detached look of someone who had seen too much, or they were flashing with anger and danger. James, on the other hand, looked at him with a contained, steady, serious look that made him seem older than Murdock knew him to be. He was, as Murdock's grandmother would have said, "an old soul."

Murdock would have known who he was, even if Jessica hadn't made introductions. Actually, they we reintroductions. They'd all met before, years and years ago. So it wasn't entirely out of left field when Jessica asked if James could interview him for a school project. It did have him intrigued, though. Why him? He didn't get any real details of this supposed "paper," but worst case scenario, he would get to spend a good part of the day out on the grounds in the sunshine. Best case scenario, he would get to know something about one of the handful of people in the world Face considered a friend.

When Jessica left them at the picnic table so she could get back to work, Bruce the orderly moved a discrete distance away. The orderly was a good kid, working his way through school. They had an unspoken understanding. Bruce let Murdock be, and Murdock kept Bruce out of his games. He didn't have to worry about Bruce listening in on the conversation.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, James opened what looked to be a well used notebook and pencil, and started.

"So, Mister... Umm, er Captain Murdock, so, ah, how long were you in the Army?"

The openly scrutinizing stare made it clear that despite his nervousness, he was determined to get the information he came for.

"The Army? Less than a year." Murdock kept his voice patently serious. "I was in the US Air Force for eight years before that."

There was a look of surprise that James couldn't quite keep hidden, even though he was trying. "You switched branches? Why?" Murdock also noticed that James wasn't looking or writing in his notebook.

Murdock kept his shrug casual, then grinned. "I got a good promotion out of it."

"The Air Force wouldn't give you one?"

"I got honorably discharged in December of 1970. I decided I wanted to go back, and the Army offered me a better deal than the Air Force. So I switched." His tone was completely matter of fact. There was no point in hiding any of that. Hell, it was public record.  
Chewing on the end of his pencil, James' expression remained serious. "When you joined the Army, is that when you met Face?"

The fact that the line of questioning had led to Face wasn't lost on Murdock.

"Actually, I met Face in..." He pretended to do the math, but that part was crystal clear in his memory. "September of 69. Hannibal recruited me to fly a mission with them. He must've been impressed 'cause he kept me onboard."

He had carefully crafted that reply. If James had done research for a project on the war in Vietnam, then an Air Force pilot on multiple missions with a team of Green Berets would be a major red flag. Anything that could explain how that scenario had come about was still classified. How the kid responded would tell Murdock a hell of a lot about just how serious James was about this paper, and what he was really after.

"Did you go back to be with Face?" There was a brief hesitation before James added, "And the other guys?"

_Gotcha, kid,_ Murdock thought to himself. This had nothing to do with a school project. James wanted to find out about Face. The only question now was what he wanted to know that he couldn't just ask Face himself.

"I get bored easy." Murdock grinned as he nodded his head towards the building behind him. "And I didn't have this exciting place to keep me busy."

There was a moment of silence as James looked down at his notebook. He wasn't reading, or writing; he was trying to work something out in his head. When he looked back up at Murdock, there was sharp, assessing look in his eye. Murdock had to bite back the urge to laugh. The kid was reading him, just like Face would read a mark.

Leaning in a little closer, James glanced around to make sure what he was about to say wasn't overheard. This just kept getting more and more interesting.Peering intently at Murdock though his glasses, James dropped his voice.

"Mr. Murdock, you and Face are friends, right?"

Murdock hesitated, lowering his eyes. That was a calculated risk, on James' part. Prying for information made it obvious he wasn't here about a report. Murdock knew the game. For the moment, he'd play along.

"Yes."

"So you know him pretty well then."

"As well as anyone, I guess."

James cast another furtive glance around, as if what he was sharing was top secret. In a way, Murdock was relieved that he was so careful; it meant he was well aware that talking about Face required extreme caution.

"Then you know that he sees my mom. Like _a lot_. Like all the time, right?"

"I know he and your mom are good friends. He hasn't told me much more than that."

"Does he have to tell you much more? I mean does have any other friends besides you guys and my Mom?"

Murdock raised a brow. The kid was sharp. He wasn't quite sure what James' angle was here, but he could guess. "Why do you ask?"  
For the first time since he started talking James seemed unsure. "It's just," he paused, trying to find the words. "My mom doesn't have any friends. _N__one_, just Face. And other than you guys, Face just has my mom, right? And they go out to movies and dinner and dance and laugh, but..."

He voice trailed off, most likely hoping that Murdock would figure out the rest. And Murdock knew exactly what he was getting at. Watching him for a long moment, Murdock sat back a little and folded his hands. This was turning into a rather delicate discussion. Murdock wasn't about to divulge anything Face wouldn't want him to. But really, what did Face have to lose from the truth?

"Face has a lot of friends," Murdock finally answered, cautiously. "But I can tell you this. He never talks about any of them, or names them by name. Except your mom."

James glanced at the orderly and then back at Murdock. "It is nice to know that Mom isn't the only one who thinks that this is something... unique."

Murdock smiled and waited for James to continue. Clearly, he wasn't finished.

"But, they never do anything more than, you know, talk. They stare at each other like they're in one of those sappy movies that girls love to watch, but they never _do_ anything about it."

"That's their prerogative, kiddo."

"Yeah, I know. I know you can't make people feel something that isn't there. But maybe sometimes, you can help them see what _is_ there."

Murdock studied him for a long moment, quietly reflecting. Poor kid. He sounded almost desperate to make his point, to gain support. But there wasn't a whole lot Murdock could've done to support him even if he wanted to.

"James, I spent a lot of time trying to make Face see what he couldn't. It's not easy. You need to really think about not only if it's worth it, but where that puts you in the end of it all. Because the last thing he or your mom needs is a relationship that's held together by you. If they can't make it on their own, they can't make it. Simple as that."

A wide, open version of Face's real smile spread over James's expression. "I agree. Making it is entirely up to them. And there's no way I would want to hold a relationship together. That's not what I'm after here."

"Good."

Gathering up his things, James stood up and offered a handshake to Murdock. He was back to that serious look, but Murdock could see an honest to god gleam in his eye. "Thank you, Mr. Murdock. You've been a big help."

That look in his eye left no doubt in Murdock's mind that James was planning something. But he was bright enough to be discrete, and nothing indicated he was going to do anything that would put Face or Jessica in danger. Maybe shake them up a bit, but not put them in danger.

Smiling, Murdock shook the hand that was offered. "Anytime, kiddo."

He had a feeling that Face was going to have his hands full with this plan, whatever it was.

James was a few feet away when Murdock turned and called to him. "Hey, James?"

"Yeah?" Stopping, James glanced back over his shoulder.

"Good luck on your project."

The kid smiled broadly as he turned and walked away.


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

There were very few people that Hannibal went out of his way to maintain contact with, even as a fugitive with a bounty on his head. One of those few had been, for years, a young man by the name of Kid Harmon. Face had his theories on why that was. Out of respect for Hannibal, he'd kept those theories entirely to himself. But it wasn't that hard to figure out that there was something unique in the bond between the two of them.

It took thirty seconds of light prodding to determine that Hannibal didn't want to talk about it. And it took one long look at the tension between Hannibal and Jack Harmon to know that they both knew the whole sordid tale. The story that Hannibal gave for that tension was well rehearsed and entirely too smooth to be anything other than a complete fabrication. Face had heard the line once - something to do with a woman Hannibal had loved and proposed to - and he'd very quickly decided against calling Hannibal out on it. For one thing, it was none of his business. For another, if Hannibal cared enough to lie about it, it deserved to be left alone.

The woman had supposedly chosen Jack over him in the end. It was a nice story, but the math didn't add up. Unless Jack was a West Point grad, or unless the woman they were talking about was little more than a high school girlfriend, there would've been no time for that kind of relationship to have occurred. High school to West Point, West Point to Korea, to France, to Germany, to that dark period of Hannibal's service record that didn't really exist. Then from there to Vietnam. There was no woman in that scenario.

Of course, she probably did exist in some form. And Hannibal probably had known her. There was no doubt in Face's mind that Hannibal would lie to protect her reputation at the expense of his pride. However brief their relationship was, and however intricately it was or was not connected to Jack Harmon, it very clearly had something to do with Kid. Kid's age put him right at the beginning of that dark, unaccounted-for period. And there was math that _did _add up. But Face had no evidence to support his theories, and wouldn't have brought it up even if he could've proven beyond a shadow of a doubt what had happened. Not his place.

Face joined the applause, smiling with amusement as Kid bounded out of the car with a giant trophy in his hand. "Can you believe it? Is this the biggest thing you've ever seen? It is great, man!"

With all the hell he'd been through just to compete in that damn race, he deserved every inch of that trophy. Face was glad for him. He was also well aware that a very pissed off Colonel Decker was lurking somewhere nearby. For that reason, his eyes were peeled. Even in the discreet location, they could be under siege at any moment.

"Well, we'll just have to have to build an addition onto the house just to keep it in."

"We'll have to build that addition to the house to put all our kids in."

Face raised a brow at Kid's enthusiasm, but his wife only laughed, hanging on his side. "Let me get through this one first, okay?"

"Okay."

Two people in love. Face could see it by the way they looked at each other. It was the kind of thing he studied, intently, because even the best artist would find that look difficult to imitate. While Kid held in one hand a trophy that was five times the size that child would be when it was born, his other hand - and all of his attention - was on her. All that he had worked so hard for meant nothing in comparison.

Face watched them with amusement, hands hooked into his pockets. That was what a new family was supposed to look like. A mother and father-to-be, focused entirely on each other and their baby. Grandfather standing behind them supportively. Well... almost. Who knew what kind of a role Jack Harmon would actually be able to maintain. He cared. Hannibal, more than any of them, believed that he cared. Whether he cared more or less than he cared for that flask in his pocket, Face wasn't entirely sure. Some things were difficult to prioritize. What he knew versus what he wanted to be. "Grandfather" would probably be one hell of a struggle for him.

"Uncle John, I don't know how we can thank you enough for all that you and Face, BA, and Murdock did."

Face's smile was in place, practiced and perfect, as he looked away. He could take a compliment. And really, the sheer enjoyment Hannibal had gotten out of this whole thing would trickle down and make every minute worth it. Maybe he'd just bask in it for a few days and give them all a break. As an added bonus, this excursion hadn't been particularly unpleasant. Sipping champagne in the enemy's hot tub with two beautiful women certainly could have been worse. And then there was that quiet little den right next to the bathroom where one of those beautiful women had taken an extra five minutes just to make sure he went home _very _happy. He smiled at that, letting his mind wander.

"You know the thing I don't understand is how did Colonel Decker ever find out that you were here?"

Face knew the answer to that. He'd known since before it happened, when one look at Jack Harmon screamed "threat." Ten years on the run had made that instinct foolproof. But he wasn't going to point that out. "Oh well, Decker may be obnoxious, but he's very determined."

"Listen son." Jack stepped forward with confession on his lips. It was in the way he walked, the look on his face, the tone in his voice. "There's something you ought to know about that."

"Yes," Hannibal cut in. "Your father promised me that he would personally ask around quietly and find out exactly what happened. Like the good friend he is."

Definitely no doubt in Face's mind that Hannibal had no problem lying to Kid if it preserved the honor of his parents, dead or alive.

"And the good friend I'll always be," Jack agreed, gratefully.

A handshake, and Jack threw the flask aside in an open display that he was rejecting the booze. For just an instant, the two of them were good friends. Face wasn't about to stick around to see how long it lasted. Or how long it would be before Jack bought a new bottle to replace the one he'd just tossed aside.

"Well, uh, we'd better get going, huh?"

Perhaps he was getting a bit cynical.

"Si, si." Murdock was ready with his Italian. And Face was glad when he switched to English. He'd really had entirely too much fun as Jean Claude Figeurati. "We hate to go. But we've got to fly back to Rome where our families are awaiting the traditional grape harvest."

"That's right, Murdock."

Uh oh, BA was encouraging him. Face exchanged glances with Hannibal. This wouldn't end well for Murdock.

"You remember that?" Murdock asked, surprised and confused.

"I especially like the part where we get to stomp the grapes." Murdock was under attack, BA trying to step on his feet. As he stumbled back, BA followed. "And we keep on stompin' 'em all day long!"

Big brother, little brother. It never ceased to amaze Face just how much like siblings those two acted sometimes. BA had strength. Murdock had speed. They chased until BA caught him. Then they wrestled until Murdock cried uncle and Hannibal finally called an end to the game. Finally, they all piled into the van.

"Congratulations on your trophy, Kid," Hannibal said once again, reaching out a hand to shake before he got into the front passenger seat. "And good luck with that baby. I want to know when it's born."

"I promise I'll call and let you know."

"Take care, Kid!"

"Bye, Uncle John!"

Face sat back comfortably, settling in for the drive home as they pulled away. "What do you think the chances are that we'll hit a Decker roadblock on the way out of here?" he asked, only mildly amused by the prospect.

Hannibal, on the other hand, was highly amused. "Gee, I hope so!"

Face sighed, and shook his head as they started back towards LA.

*X*X*X*

Hannibal wasn't surprised by the roadblock or the car chase. He was a little surprised, however, by the sheer intensity of the pursuit and the choice words Decker called after the van as it sped away. He was wound up tight - a lot tighter than normal. Hannibal had noticed it right away, and it was even more apparent now. Decker was trying a little too hard. Something was up.

"Are you staying in LA?" Hannibal asked, glancing over at Face.  
Face caught his gaze as he shut the van door. "I was planning on it, why?"

"Decker."

Face smiled. "Well, wonders never cease. Suddenly you're worried about Decker?"

Reaching into his pocket for a cigar, Hannibal meet Face's smile with one of his own. "He's more uptight then a stray cat in room full of hungry dogs." He lit his cigar, and took a few puffs, rolling the smoke around in his mouth. "Something's changed. Either he's planning something or he's getting a lot more pressure to bring us in. Whichever it is, we need to be on our toes."  
"I'm always on my toes," Face smiled - that fake, perfect smile he could recall on command, no matter what his mood

"Sure you are, kid." Hannibal chuckled, cigar clamped firmly between his teeth.

"Alright, so what do you want?" Face asked with a shrug. "I don't know where I'm staying yet, but I'll call in."

Hannibal raised a brow. "You don't have a place to stay?"

"Now, I didn't say that." Face grinned. He checked his watch. "Right now, it's early enough that I'm going to give Jessica Summers a call and see if she wants to have dinner. You've already got her number."

"Ooh!" Murdock was a part of the conversation - leaning out of the side of the van - without warning. "You're gonna go see Dr. Pretty? You know, Face, I bump into her every once in a while at the VA. She mentioned you a few times."

Whether or not Face realized Murdock was digging for information - which he probably did - he answered simply, "We're just friends. Same as we have been for years."

"Oh good." Murdock put his hand over his heart and turned on his "puppy dog eyes." "I was afraid I might have to give up my dream of becoming Mr. Dr. Jessica."

Hannibal barely managed to hide his grin. Murdock had no intentions with Jessica Summers. That was a line that he would never cross, and they all knew it. That fact just made Murdock's unique brand of needling Face all the more amusing. Murdock could run screaming head long into a personal subject, trample over boundaries and social morays, but somehow never really offend anyone. He would root around, picking up whatever he was looking for and bound away. In the middle of doing this, he would manage to make his thoughts well known; all without ever doing much more than making his target subject laugh.  
Face glanced at Murdock, raising a brow. "I didn't know you kept in touch with her. Just the days she has surgeries scheduled, I assume?"  
"Yup," Somehow Murdock's grin got even wider. "I been thinking about blowing out my knee just so she could rebuild me better, faster, stronger." Hannibal watched as Murdock got warmed up. "I've really been hoping she would wanna do some of that water therapy. Nothing like a good looking blonde in a swimsuit to inspire a man to push his limits."

Face rolled his eyes.

Patting Face on the shoulder, Murdock's expression changed to one of contemplation. "I would have made my move sooner, but I'm not sure I'm ready to have teenagers." Murdock waved his hand in a circle. "All the parties and the drama and crazy antics. And then there's what the kids would do. I think I might be a bad influence."

Hannibal was waiting for BA to jump in and threaten Murdock. The pilot was on a roll and BA should be joining in with his trademark growl. When it didn't come, he gave a quick glance to BA. Hannibal had to fight to hide his shock. BA was _smiling_. Sure, he was trying to fighting it, but he wasn't doing a good job.  
Face's amusement with the whole conversation was fading, but he kept the fake smile in place as he looked around at them, eventually stopping on Hannibal. "Are we through here? And what number do you want me to call?"

Done tearing up this particular flowerbed, Murdock pushed himself back into his chair inside the van, grinning happily as he put his hands behind his head. "Well, you can reach me at my suite at the VA. They got some shiny new drugs they wanna try out on me. It should be a real fun couple of weeks."

Murdock gave a dramatic little shiver that did nothing to dampen his brilliant smile. Once again he had retreated with his information without offense. Now he was going to sit back and let whatever he had learned simmer.

"Last time they changed my meds, I thought I was the King of France. I still can't look at a croissant."

Hannibal smiled. "I'll make sure to keep French pastries off the menu for a while."

Face was still waiting expectantly for an answer.

"You can reach me on set at Universal. I got a great role as Snailasaurus."

"Snail-a-what?"

"Half snail, half dinosaur, all heart." Hannibal shoved the cigar back in his mouth. "I think it's going to be some of my best work yet. Too bad there's no room for a sequel. It ends with a tragic accident at a salt mine."  
Face was staring at him warily. Finally, he nodded. "Snailasaurus, right. That should be easy enough to remember."  
Hannibal was grinning fully as he replied with mock seriousness. "We'll be on the same set the whole time. Snailasaurus doesn't move fast, but he makes up for that with his ability to emote."

Face sighed and sat back. Murdock smiled. Hannibal turned to face front again as BA maneuvered smoothly through the traffic. And for just a moment, all was well with the world.


	5. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

There was an open box of half-finished pizza on the coffee table and a couple of empty beer bottles on the floor. It wasn't nearly enough to make Face drunk, but he had a careful eye on Jessica. She'd had a bit more than he had. Not that he cared if she got drunk, but he wanted to be aware if she was. So far, she seemed to be holding it together pretty well.

She was done eating, sitting on the opposite side of the couch from him with her knees pulled to her chest. Her cutoff shorts and T-shirt were definitely a step down from his suit, but he'd taken his jacket and tie off and unbuttoned the sleeves. He was comfortable. She was smiling as she watched him finish the last of his pizza.

"You have lipstick on your neck."

He smiled around the pizza and grabbed for a napkin as he set it down. No water, but he used the beer to wet the corner of the napkin and wiped his neck. He knew exactly where the lipstick would be. "Thanks." He turned back to her, his grin somewhat chagrined. "Guess I missed a spot."

She laughed quietly, and reached for her beer. "You know, Face, if you ever _did _have a girlfriend, I get the sneaking suspicion you wouldn't be able to hold on to her for very long."

It was the kind of insult that only a friend could make, delivered with a smile and a tone that was almost a tease. Coming from anyone else, he might have actually been offended. From her, it made him smile.

"Maybe that's why I don't bother." He tossed the napkin on the coffee table. "Besides, it doesn't seem like it's worth the effort anyway."

She smiled softly. "It can be."

"Is that the voice of experience talking?" he challenged with a smile.

She laughed at that. "Oh, hell no. I've never seen a 'functional' relationship. That's just what they tell me."

"So how come you believe it if you've never seen it?"

"Because I have to," she replied quietly, still smiling. "I've got to believe there's something more than this."

"You don't like 'this'? I thought pizza and conversation ranked pretty high with you."

She laughed. "I didn't mean _this_. I mean... in general."

Face smiled at her. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she actually seemed more relaxed than normal. He sat back on the couch, leaning against the corner, leg up with his ankle hooked under his other knee. "I guess the end goal is all relative anyway." He shrugged. "And you want it or you don't."

"And you don't?"

He shrugged again. A safe non-answer.

She stretched her legs out on the sofa and poked his leg with her toes. "Gimme your foot."

Only slightly wary, Face stretched his leg out her way and allowed himself to recline into the couch. He watched her closely as she pulled his foot into her lap, pulled off his sock, and began massaging. A slight smile crept across his face. That felt good. Who would've thought?

"You know, it's funny." She glanced up at him. "I don't look at it as a goal. It's the experience of _getting _there that's..." She trailed off and laughed. "Hell, what am I saying? My way clearly doesn't work."

He laughed candidly at that and grabbed her foot to return the massage. "Everything is all about the experience of getting there, Jess." He pulled off her sock, and dropped it on the floor. "Maybe you just need to lower the bar."

"Lower the bar?"

"Your expectations." He smirked. "I know a guy at the trailer park a few miles away. I think you guys could make it work."

The sarcastic look she gave him spoke volumes. It made him laugh. But her look faded as she glanced away. The shadow that came over her eyes was enough to make him wonder if he'd touched a nerve without even meaning to. Oops.

"Momma always used to tell me I needed to _raise _my expectations." She forced a smile as she glanced back up at him. "She didn't want to see me end up with... the kind of man I thought I deserved."

Face raised a brow. Those self esteem issues she tried to keep so well hidden were showing through. "Thought you deserved?"

She looked at him again and smiled tightly. "I've been known to settle. Hell, you know that. You've seen me do it." She sighed as she looked away, still rubbing his foot. "It seems like every relationship I get into, I find myself just racking up the points against the guy and saying, 'Well, I can handle that,' until I finally get to one that tips the scales. Momma always called it a self-esteem issue. I don't know, honestly. It's just what always happens."

Face paused, his voice softer and more serious now. "Jess..." He hadn't meant to stumble onto any touchy subjects. He patted her foot lightly before he continued. "One of these days you're going to find your white knight. And I promise I'll even stop dropping by so unexpected when you do."

"You're entitled to stop by. If for no other reason, then because of the kids."

He shrugged.

"And I'd like to think you wouldn't just drop off the face of the earth. There is something to be said for friendship. And a _real _white knight would understand that."

"I won't drop off the face of the earth."

She smiled at him, lowering her head and dropping her voice to a whisper. "Liar."

He didn't argue. He'd known even as he said it that there was a good chance that was a lie. He didn't need anyone else knowing he flopped here from time to time. Especially when it might turn out that the hypothetical "white knight" of the future had a jealous streak. That could too easily turn into a vindictive "let's call the cops" streak.

Several long, quiet minutes passed. She tipped her head back as he rubbed the tight spot on the arch of her foot. "Mmm... know what?"

"What?"

"This is better than sex."

He laughed.

She smiled at him before she lowered her eyes again. "Honestly, I don't really know if I'm even looking for a white knight anymore."

He wasn't surprised to hear that her thoughts had returned to that comment.

"More like..." She trailed off and shook her head. "I don't know."

"Mr. Right Now?"

She frowned deeply and gave a firm, "No," but then sighed deeply. "I know you love the game, so I don't expect you to understand. But I'm just sick of it. I just want..." She shook her head again. "I don't know."

He set her foot on the couch and gestured for her to give him her other one. "Jess, loving 'the game' is the only option I have. Don't tell me you'd want to trade your 'white knight' for the rogue bad boy." He pulled her other sock off and dropped it on the floor.

Her eyes were piercing as she looked up at him. "Don't tell me you'd trade the game for a wedding ring."

He stopped, hesitated, and finally shrugged. "It's not something I think about." He smiled at her, full of confidence. "Like I said it's not an option. So why dwell on it?"

She let it go and switched to his other foot. For a few minutes, she was quiet. He watched the slow smile that crept across her lips as she stared into space, some indeterminate spot on the floor.

"I don't know," she finally said, reflectively. "There's something to be said for the rogue bad boy."

Face threw his head back and laughed at that. "I knew it!"

She blinked, startled by his response. He was acutely aware of her reaction and emotional cues as he leaned towards her with a smile. "You want a guy that's not afraid of things getting rough."

He didn't specify what he meant. He didn't have to. She blushed, shifted nervously, but looked back up at him, making eye contact. He held it, not looking away at her embarrassment. So it was bedroom play. Interesting. Not that he particularly cared. He had no intention of playing her, and didn't need to know what she liked and didn't like in bed. But the more time he spent here, the more he talked to her, the more he realized that she was one of the very few people who actually knew more about him than he knew about her. And times like this, it felt good to even out the playing field.

He could read her like a book when he tried; he could do that with just about any woman. But it was a fine line to walk. He didn't want to give her any ammunition to use against him in her argument that he was manipulating her. Whatever he got out of her, he wanted it out in the open. Safer that way. It was a new twist on an old game - guiding the conversation and then openly, blatantly reading the responses so that she _knew_ he was doing it.

She was still holding his gaze . Almost a challenge, if she hadn't been bright red. And at long length, she managed to put her smile back in place, but she didn't speak. Face chuckled again. "Don't be embarrassed, Jess." He lowered his head slightly, and leaned toward her as he finished in a whisper. "The cops aren't the only ones who have trussed me up in handcuffs."

Again, she was caught off guard. But this time, it made her laugh. "You're serious?"

He smiled at her naivete - a look that was filled with mischief. He didn't have to speak.

Her jaw dropped. "You _are_!" She was laughing continually now. "Face, I never took you for someone who was into that sort of thing."

"Likewise," he answered lightheartedly.

She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again without a word. The blush crept back into her cheeks as she lowered her eyes, but the smile never fell. "I don't know about the handcuffs. To me, I think that kind of... defeats the purpose."

Purpose? Her elusive wording, just enough to suggest there was a story behind it, pricked his interest. He leaned back into the couch, watching her carefully. "Handcuffs, blindfolds, whatever." He dismissed it all with a wave of his hand. "It's all outside of your standard missionary position escapades."

She rubbed his foot with the heel of her palm, watching him curiously. He had her attention too, and he could tell that she didn't feel threatened. She was relaxing slowly, carefully lowering those walls that she kept so carefully guarded when she was around him.

"Actually, I really am surprised," she finally offered, her tone a little more serious but still casual. "I wouldn't think you'd trust anybody enough for that."

Face shrugged. "It's not that hard to get out of handcuffs."

"Well, the practicalities aren't the _only _trust issue."

She watched him carefully, and he smiled. He knew exactlywhat she was doing. It was odd to see her prying at him. What an amusing game they were engaging in. It wasn't intimidating. He didn't really care what she was looking for, or what she got out of him, for that matter; he'd told her things that were far more potent than the details of some meaningless sex plays. But there was going to have to be some give and take in this conversation. He didn't just offer to be scrutinized for the hell of it, and his interest had definitely been piqued by her earlier comment. They could keep playing as long as he could set the rules.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

She smiled. "What, you want me to interrogate you? I was kind of trying to play nice."

"You can play however you want." He grinned. "The question is, do you want to interrogate me?"

She raised a brow. "You're full of surprises tonight."

A shrug, and he waited for her reply.

"Would I get answers?"

"Depends on what you ask."

"Nothing too personal?"

He considered it for a moment, and smiled knowingly. "Quip pro quo. You ask any question you want, and I'll answer."

"You'll answer _honestly_?"

"I'll answer honestly," he promised. "But you'll be expected to answer my question next."

She eyed him for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Okay." She pulled her foot away and stood to her feet, gathering up the beer bottles. "But I get the first question."

She smiled over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen. He stayed put, watching her go. He couldn't help but question the smile she threw him. This was probably a bad idea. But whatever she asked, it would be worth it to have an open invitation to get into her head.


	6. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Jessica returned a few minutes later with two wine glasses and the bottle Face had brought with him. She set all three and a corkscrew on the coffee table near him. He sat up, reaching for it as she lowered back onto the couch.

"So tell me about the handcuffs."

The realization of what he'd _really _just gotten himself into hit him very suddenly as he considered that question. It wasn't that he was embarrassed by sex, or anything that could possibly be done in or around a bed. But doing it and describing it in retrospect were two very different things. She was really asking him to talk about his sexual escapades? And he was really supposed to answer? And honestly? He hadn't really thought about the cost of this little exercise until that moment. Whatever it took to get her to engage, that was what had come out of his mouth. It had been quite natural, without thought. But now she was directly asking him to explain the very thing he'd so masterfully skirted around.

He sat up, searching his mind for a story he was willing to tell her while he uncorked the wine. In fact, he had several to choose from. He filled the glasses a bit fuller than normal - alcohol would not _hurt _this conversation in the least. Then he handed her a glass and leaned back into the couch sipping the wine.

"You wanna know about the handcuffs, huh?"

"Start with her name."

He hesitated a minute, and she laughed.

"Did you _know _her name?"

He nodded. "Her name was Samantha. She was sort of... a friend of mine."

She smiled. He returned it. He was not entirely sure this was such a good idea anymore. It had been a hell of a long time since he'd actually felt _shy_. But damn, this was awkward.

"Okay." He cleared his throat, suddenly a bit more aware of her than he had been before. He dropped his eyes away from her. "We were in the shower..." He took a larger sip from the glass, wishing it would work a bit quicker. "Anyway, I had an appointment to get to, and uh... she persuaded me to stay for a bit."

"In the _shower_?" Jessica laughed as she took her wine, watching him with obvious amusement. "What did she cuff you to, the shower curtain rod?"

Face chuckled to himself. "No, not the curtain rod." He took another large sip of the wine, wishing that he'd had more beer with the pizza. "It was a very nice, very large shower that had built-in decorative shelves along the top. And the supports were decorative and spaced out for any number of arrangements."

He cast a quick glance at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her smiling broadly, hiding it behind her fingers. "Wow."

Her gaze was _just _shy of raking as she looked him up and down. He could feel it; he knew the look. She was envisioning, and he wondered if her visions looked anything like the real thing. In any case, her eyes running over him helped him to regain some of his confidence. It always did.

"Was it fun?"

He could feel the alcohol starting to work. "Yeah." He finally turned his head and met her eyes. For some reason, he was both surprised and glad that she was amused at his plight and not appalled. "It was. There's a level of vulnerability there, that's..." He searched for the right word, never really found it, and finally settled on, "erotic."

Her smile softened as she considered that thoughtfully. "I've never thought about it that way."

"You _never_ thought about it, Jess?" He didn't believe that.

She shrugged. "I told you. Handcuffs defeat the purpose for me."

Ah, right. That word that had gotten them into this conversation to begin with.

"But you're right," she continued. "That would be."

"Would be what? Vulnerable or erotic?"

"Both."

He smiled. "My turn?"

She paused, and nodded. "Your turn."

Face smiled, but kept the leer out of it. "Alright." He caught her gaze glad to be out of the spotlight. "What doesn't defeat the purpose for you?"

She frowned. "That's... kind of vague."

He knew that. He'd left it that way on purpose.

"I'm not sure how to answer that."

"What is it," he rephrased, "outside of the obvious, that you do find erotic?"

She licked her lips, and her brow furrowed as she thought hard. "Like... a specific scenario or just in general?"

"You mentioned the purpose. Twice. Start there."

"That changes. There's things it's _not_, but what it is changes from time to time."

So the purpose was the desired emotion, subject to change, and it would never be achieved by handcuffs. Which meant it required active participation on her part. She needed to physically engage with her partner to find emotional satisfaction on any level, and didn't understand how that could be achieved if her hands were tied. It wasn't detailed, but it satisfied his curiosity for the most part.

"This is hard, Face! Don't make me try and figure you out. I didn't do that to you..."

Face laughed. "Alright, I'm sorry. Here." He sipped the wine again and searched for a more direct question. "What is the craziest thing you've ever done?"

"Helicopter. In Vietnam. Hands down."

He laughed. Somehow, he'd known she was going to say that.

"But that's not what you want to hear, so..." She glanced away as she considered it thoughtfully. At long length, she finally sighed.

"Hell, I don't know. Most guys I've been with have all been very..."

She trailed off, shaking her head. He watched her carefully. Would she make something up? He was pretty sure he'd know if she lied.

"I got _really _messed up and had sex in a bathroom at a bar once." She shifted nervously, licking her lips. She wasn't lying. "But I don't remember it very well."

"Crazy bathroom sex, huh?" He grinned, reassuringly.

"It seemed pretty crazy the next morning when I realized that it hadn't been a dream. But it's nothing like handcuffs in the shower. I've just never dated those kind of guys. I mean, except..." She gestured loosely towards him in conclusion.

He laughed. "Should I be offended by that?"

"Well, no..." She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't get out much. Frankly, your stories are going to be way more interesting than mine."

Face shrugged. It wasn't about the stories. He had enough of those on his own. He didn't need to add hers to the collection. "Did you enjoy it?"

She laughed tensely. "I don't really remember. I never did it again, but I must've liked it on some level or I wouldn't have let it happen." She shrugged, and lowered her voice. "We broke up shortly after that. For a different reason. Nothing to do with that."

He hid any visible reaction. Not even a _random_ guy. Her sexual escapades did pale in comparison. He knew what that meant...

She looked up again, suddenly. "My turn."

Face laughed at the sudden break for freedom from the spotlight of this conversation. "Agreed." He held up the wine glass, almost empty now. "Go ahead."

She was quiet for a long moment, shifting gears. Finally, she looked back up at him. "Okay. Simple yes or no on this one, no explanation needed. I mean, unless you want to. But not necessary. 'Kay?"

He nodded, and braced himself. To put that kind of limitation, she knew it was a touchy subject. And she had bits and pieces of a number of those. He hadn't expected to get into any of that here, but he'd keep playing as long as she played nice.

"Did you have sex with Tamika?"

Face was in the middle of a sip of wine. He stopped very suddenly at the question and stared at her over the top of the glass. _That_ was not nice. Of course, she probably had no idea just how touchy that subject was.

"No," he answered flatly, never taking his eyes off her. "Not in the way you're thinking."

Jessica watched him for a long moment. She wanted clarification, but she wouldn't ask for it. And he wasn't about to offer anything more. Finally, she nodded and lowered her eyes.

"Okay. Your turn."

Face let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding as soon as she flipped things back to him. Why the hell would she ask that? The only thing she knew about Tamika was a name on a letter from Vegas. He tucked the thought into the back of his mind.

"Okay." He found his bearings in the conversation again, and tried to wriggle out from the weight of seriousness that had settled on his shoulders. He had to regain his thoughts. Bathroom sex. Not particularly impressive.

"What is your wildest _fantasy_?"

For a girl who had 'crazy bathroom sex' as a top story, she was guaranteed to have repressed sexual fantasies. And after that last question, she could go right ahead and flounder for a bit.

She fought a smile as her cheeks flushed. "Wildest or hottest?"

"Your choice. But you have to tell me what you went with, so I know what to ask next."

"Oh, God."

She was almost purple now. She took a deep breath and a full gulp of wine before she looked back at him, using her glass to hide her smile as she turned varying shades of crimson. He'd never seen her blush so much in one night.

"I like water. And you know that, but..." Her eyes darkened noticeably. He could see it, like a shadow that came over her. It was as if her whole demeanor suddenly changed. "I _really _like water. Ocean, pool, lake... whatever. Make love in the water - and yes, I know everybody says that's just not practical and it's not as fun as it sounds and I don't care. And then wash up on the sand or the poolside or a blanket on the grass and just..."

He watched quietly, a slight smile on his lips as he read her body language. Her breathing had deepened and her eyes were out of focus, staring at some spot on the back of the couch. Her fingers were absently stroking up and down the stem of her glass. She was definitely being honest about this one.

"One long, continuous..." She looked back at him as if she'd suddenly remembered he was there and the blush crept into her cheeks again. She laughed as she hid her eyes with her hand. The breathy tone was gone when she spoke again. "God, this is embarrassing. Why am I telling you this?"

He smiled. "Because I told you I let someone handcuff me to a shower stall."

She hid her face with both hands, still holding the wine glass.

"So was that hottest or wildest?"

"Hottest. That's the one I've had since..." She shook her head, considering it. "God, since I hit puberty."

Face raised a brow. "And you've _never_ done it?"

"No."

Face almost felt sorry for her at that. Sex in the water wasn't that far of a stretch and she hadn't gotten close enough with anyone to even go that far.

She looked away. "I'm... not all that experienced, Face."

He nodded. "I got that. Alright, your turn."

She eyed him curiously. "What's that one thing you've always wanted to do and know you never will?"

His response came to mind instantly, and he bit back a knee jerk reaction to lie. He looked at her for a moment, then looked away, studying the floor.

"Wow, you knew it that fast."

"To make love," he answered, before the silence lingered and gave him too much time to think.

She blinked, clearly startled, and remained quiet as he looked back up and met her eyes.

He took a breath. It physically _hurt _to be this honest. But now that he'd started, it was easier. "To be so completely and utterly in love with someone that I'm able to be..." He swallowed hard, and shook his head slightly. "Vulnerable. Exposed. All those things I don't want to feel."

Jessica was quiet for a long moment. It was reverent silence. Whether she understood what he was saying or just understood that he didn't want to say it, he wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wasn't..."

"I know." He smiled sheepishly, putting his thoughts aside. "I promised to be honest though, right?"

Her answering smile was forced. "Still..."

He smiled and poured another glass of wine. He _needed _it after that. He pushed the exposure back down under the layers of protection, where it belonged, and raised the bottle to her to see if she wanted more.

"Your turn, right?"

She took a deep breath, and held out her glass for a refill. "Uh huh."

She was still uneasy, even though he'd already re-compartmentalized his emotions. She hadn't been expecting a response like that. He filled her glass and set the bottle back down on the table. At least she'd be expecting the next question.

"Now for your _wildest_ fantasy."

He eyed her with a smile. She'd dodged this one last time around, preferring to give up her childhood fantasy. This one promised to be good.

She hesitated. Took a few sips of wine. Then she laughed. "Shit, I think I need a cigarette."

Face smiled. It was an escape plan, he knew. And he wasn't about to let her get away with it. But now that she mentioned it...

"I know the feeling. You got a pack?" He stood.

She was clearly startled, but she nodded. "In my purse. On the table."

Her eyes followed him as he walked over to the table and grabbed her purse. He didn't bother even looking inside of it, just brought it over to Jess and waited. She took it, withdrew a pack of cigarettes, and took one before handing the pack to him. He tapped one out for himself as she fumbled through the black hole that women called purses. He wasn't about to wait until she found her lighter. He found his own, flicked it open, and held out the flame for her before he lit his own.

"Thank you."

He didn't answer, simply walked back around the couch and sat down as she set her purse on the floor. He had the feeling this was going to be really good.

"Okay."

She took a deep drag off the cigarette. Fidgeting nervously, running her hands through her hair. She finally set the wine glass on the coffee table. He watched her closely, almost perversely enjoying her uneasiness. She pulled the empty ashtray closer, took another drag, tapped her cigarette.

"Remember how you said... about a guy who wasn't afraid of things getting rough?"

"Yeah."

She paused for a slow, deep breath. Hand through her hair again. "It's not so much rough as just... in charge."

She kept her eyes moving - the couch, the floor, the front door, anywhere but him. Took another drag. Tapped again on the ashtray. Gathering her thoughts, gathering her legs up underneath her until she was sitting cross legged on the sofa. Fidgeting. Nervous.

"And not like the whole... whips and chains thing. But just..."

Another deep breath, and she finally looked up at him. He was genuinely impressed by that. Exposed and clearly uncomfortable, she ultimately chose to meet that feeling of fear head on. She held his gaze steady.

"I want a guy who can handle me. Put me in my place. Not... dominating. At least, not as a basis for the relationship. Not all the time. And not someone who doesn't _respect_ me but just somebody who can say 'this is the way it's going to be and I don't care how you feel about it.'"

Face studied her quietly. Forced submission? She was the opposite of him - vulnerable on the surface and easily taken advantage of, but tough as nails underneath it all. Whereas he never let anyone get to that lower layer where he was vulnerable; she'd apparently never been with anyone who wanted to get to her lower layers, to see how tough she could be. Once again, he found himself feeling sorry for her.

"I mean, he should care what it feels likebut not..." She hesitated again, looking for a better way of wording her thoughts. "Someone who _takes _what he wants. Period, stop. Make sense?"

She took another drag, buying herself a moment. He nodded in reply, but didn't say anything. He didn't want to interrupt her, and she was clearly on a roll.

"I know it sounds tame - and for you, it probably is. But in my mind?" Her eyes blazed noticeably, a very different look from the one he'd seen before. That was no surprise. It was a very different fantasy. "That guy turns me on _so _fucking bad."

He smiled. Clearly, 'that guy' was only an abstract concept in her mind. But God help him when she got her hands on him. She would certainly give him a run for his money.

"I've got this vision of just..." She shook her head as she looked away, licking her lips. "Kind of like in Vietnam, when you'd come back, and it just didn't matter _what _the fuck I was doing, you wanted it _now_?"

He nodded slightly. Those memories were far from his mind, as a rule. But closer to the surface when he was near her. He took a deep drag on his cigarette.

"Except... not like that." She frowned. "Because that was... That was about sex. And this is about... power. Control. Submission. Maybe even _forced _submission."

He smiled. Bingo. He was right on track. "About knowing you well enough to know what you really want, instead of what you say you want."

She nodded slightly. "And just... keep going because of that and because it's what he wants. And what I'm saying I want doesn't matter. It's almostlike a rape fantasy."

Face blinked, startled by that, but she quickly corrected.

"But not. Because it would have to be _that _guy. Not just _a_ guy. Like you were saying with trust and vulnerability being erotic? The trust is implicit. Give me what I need, and then never make me feel... less, because of it. Less respected, less strong, less loved. Definitely not less safe."

Face watched her quietly. This is what he'd been fishing for all night, and it was _absolutely _worth what it had cost him. He'd never seen her so naked, and he didn't even have to pry. Everything she was saying and feeling was written all over her face, plain as day.

"You want someone you trust and love," he concluded, "to put you in your place. Hard. Not take no for an answer. But realize that your place with him, in bed, in that fantasy, is not your place in life."

He understood.

Hearing it out of his mouth made her very suddenly realize what she'd just said and she immediately put her hand up over her face. "Oh my _God_." She laughed nervously, blushing purple again.

Face let a smile take over his features as he sat back and watched her try to disappear into the couch. Her hands were almost shaking, she was so embarrassed. She looked for a way to hide her face, but there really wasn't anywhere to go. She choked on the anxious laughter until her eyes burned, then laughed harder, keeping her hand up so that he couldn't see. He didn't need to see. He could hear it in the way her laughter cracked.

He sipped the wine, took a drag off his cigarette, and waited with unadulterated amusement as she worked through things. It took her a few minutes. When she finally did come back to herself, and saw his look of amusement, the first thing she did was grab the pillow off the couch and throw it at him, still laughing intermittently. He had just enough time to transfer his wine to the hand holding the cigarette before he caught the pillow. He was laughing, too, as he tossed it back at her.

She leaned over to tap her cigarette, and picked up her wine, taking a sip. "You ass," she teased.

He laughed even harder at that and shot her an innocent look. "What?"

She didn't have a chance to reply. The front door opened unexpectedly, and Face looked over his shoulder as James and a boy his age that Face didn't recognize stepped through the front door. "Hey Ma. Face."

"Hey, James. Who's your friend?" Face put the cigarette out as he turned to face the two of them.

James gestured over his shoulder at the other kid. "Oh. Friend from school. Brian, this is my mom and this is Face." He smiled comfortably. "Friend of the family."

Face held out a hand, but didn't try to get off the couch. That was going to be tricky when he attempted it. He could feel the alcohol muddling his thoughts. Brian took a step forward, and shook his hand.

"Good to meet you, sir."

Face smiled.

James didn't wait for further conversation. "We're gonna go play Atari. Later!" They were up the stairs and out of sight in an instant.

Face watched them go, and smiled as he turned back towards Jessica. She was looking at the clock. "It's getting late. I have a surgery in the morning. Are you staying tonight?"

Face thought about that for a second. He had stuff to do in the morning, but he'd had more to drink than he had planned. "Yeah, I don't think driving is a good idea." The last thing he needed was to explain to Hannibal why he got picked up on a DUI.

She finished her cigarette and put it out. She clearly hadn't realized the effects of the alcohol until she tried to stand up and nearly fell over. He put up a hand to steady her, and she lifted one leg onto the couch for balance. "Wow. I'm a little drunk."

"I'm not surprised."

Face stood much more slowly, carefully, and got himself well balanced before he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I think... I'm gonna need some help up the stairs."

She laughed all the way up the steps, and down the hall to her room. She was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow, and he was only a few seconds behind.


	7. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

Decker had been officially reassigned. That was just fascinating to Face. He couldn't help but wonder if that reassignment had something to do with Face's own sudden stroke of "luck" and the open invitation to join the real world again. Actually, that was simplifying things too much. He wasn't joining the real world. There was nothing real about this. He was joining the ranks of celebrity popularity. And he loved it.

He wasn't tired. EG had fallen asleep almost an hour ago, curled against him with her arm across his chest. There was a smile on her face even in her sleep. It made Face chuckle to himself. He'd done his job well. With any luck, if she had any part to play in this whole charade, he'd won her over with a few lines of Shakespeare, a few glasses of wine, and a few rounds of moderately enjoyable sex.

She really was quite attractive. And she had a brain, too, unlike most of the women he bedded. Too bad that brain was set against him. He could smell that trap a mile away. And for all the fun he was having in the meantime, he didn't imagine it would last for much longer.

He sighed as he finally slid out from beneath her arm, tucking the blanket around her chin and kissing her forehead softly. He watched her while he dressed in his boxers and T-shirt, making sure she was still asleep. Then, careful not to wake her, he wandered out into the living room. He hadn't checked his answering service in days. There were bound to be messages, given his new publicity.  
Sure enough, there were a number of messages. Only one was really worth replying to. He glanced at the clock - it was the middle of the night, but what the hell? - and reclined on the sofa with the phone in one hand, a cigar and glass of wine in the other. At least he knew she'd be home, even if she was dead asleep.

The answering machine picked up. He called again. This time, she caught it on the third ring, and he smiled at her sleep slurred, "Hello."

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty." He couldn't hide the fact that he was in an insanely good mood. And he didn't bother trying. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Face? Is that you?"

He smiled as he sipped the fine wine. Perfect.

"Of course not. It's someone who sounds just like me who has the nerve to call you at two o'clock in the morning. Who also happens to be a free man."

"Are you alright?" She sounded concerned.

"Never been better." He set the cigar between his teeth. "I'm having the time of my life. Couldn't you tell from the news stories?"

"Yeah, I saw the news. That's why I called."

He heard the light click on, and the tapping and crinkling of a cigarette pack, followed by the flick of a lighter. He let her finish, waited for her to continue.

"What's going on, Face?"

"I don't know. But it sure is fun." He sighed wistfully. "Unfortunately, it's also very temporary."

"Temporary?"

He glanced toward the room where EG was asleep. He'd left the door open and could see her in the mirror. He was acutely aware of the fact that there was a phone in that room as well, and he didn't want to take a chance of her accidentally waking up.

"I give it a week. If I'm lucky."

His smile returned as EG turned and pushed the covers back in her sleep, exposing her to his eyes again. She really was quite beautiful. "Not that I wouldn't love to have it go on for much, much longer."

"You know it's a set up and you're still playing along with it? Have you lost your mind?"

He chuckled quietly. "Oh, come on, Jess. You know me." Another deep, audible, and completely wistful sigh accompany his smile. "It's all about the experience."

"Why am I not surprised that you would walk into a trap and then try to turn it into a goldmine?"

"Besides, Hannibal knows it, too. The guys are keeping tabs. And we'll never really know what this is all about if we don't play along a bit."

She laughed quietly. "In other words, you're going to sit there drinking a ridiculously expensive wine and planning a new wardrobe until someone realizes this was a mistake."

"You're right about the expensive wine. And it's very good, too." He swirled the dark purple zinfandel in the glass. "But so far the only thing I've charged to them is this gorgeous suite. And I'll be making up for that tomorrow morning with a guest appearance on Barnyard Bally-hoo. The commission should more than pay for the wine _and_ the room."

"I should have known you would have figured out it was a trap."

He sat back with a contented sigh. "I tell you, Jess. If I ever get my name cleared for real, this would be the life."

"High priced wine, hotel rooms, the thrill of scamming people who you think deserve it? How is that different from any other day?"

"Because this time, I don't even have to try. Someone's doing all my work for me. I just get to play along."

"Until someone figures out this isn't supposed to be happening."

"Oh, I think someone already knows that. The question is who." He paused for a sip of wine. "But that's not my problem right now. As long as Murdock doesn't smash my 'Vette while I'm away or, you know, have it reupholstered in bright pink, I should be in good shape. Little vacation, get to come back refreshed."

She laughed. "Face, you do realize that you just compared letting a psych patient drive your baby while you wait for the other shoe to drop - a shoe that includes twenty years in a cell, might I add - all while having to watch everything you do and say and be ready to run on a second's notice... to a vacation?"

"You make it sound far less fun than it really is."

She inhaled deeply on her cigarette. "Just out of curiosity, have you ever _been_ on a real vacation?"

"R&R, in Vietnam. Took two weeks in Hawaii once. And a week in Perth, too; boy, was that fun. I don't think I bought a drink the whole time I was there. Yet I was never sober."

"R&R doesn't count as a vacation. Especially not with the things you did."

"Then no."

"Well, maybe if you can avoid getting arrested before the end of the week, you should go on a real vacation. It might give you a better basis of comparison."

"Maybe I will," he answered reflectively. He smiled as he took another sip of wine. "You want to go on a cruise? It'd be hard to avoid the publicity if we went together, but we could always casually bump into each other somewhere out in the Caribbean."

"Sounds tempting, but I have a busy social calendar for the week. Heather's play is Friday night and James has a Mathlet tournament Tuesday and Wednesday."

"Hmm. Some other time."

He glanced at the clock, then back through the door at the mirror where he was watching EG. She stirred again, this time a little too much. Face lowered his voice before he continued.

"I'll let you get back to sleep. And don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Okay?"

"Okay." She paused, her concern evident even though she was trying to hide it. "Just take care of yourself, Face."

"I will. I promise. And you still have Hannibal's number if anything should happen. He knows to expect a call from you and he'd tell you whatever he knew."

It was a precaution. One he didn't think he'd need, but it was better safe than sorry. He dropped his voice even lower as EG sat up in the bed and looked around.

"I'll talk to you later, Jess. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Face."

He hung up the phone just as EG stood to her feet, grabbing the robe off of the chair on her way to the door. Bleary eyed, she pushed her hair back as she stood in the doorway, studying him. "What are you doing up?"

He looked back at her, relaxing comfortably as he swirled the wine in his glass again. "Oh, just... planning."

"Planning what?"

He smiled. "I'm thinking about taking a cruise."

*X*X*X*

"You think it's for real?" James asked as Heather carefully set the phone back in the cradle, careful not to let it click and give away their eavesdropping.

"The pardon? Hell no." Heather sat with her back to the wall and folded her hands in her lap.

"Me neither."

Heather shrugged. "Face is right. Give it a couple days, maybe a week. It'll all be over and back to normal again. Either that or he'll be in jail - one of the two."

James frowned. Being in jail would _not _help the plan. But if Hannibal Smith was as good as everyone said - both in Vietnam and in the newspapers since then, with death defying escapes from the military police and all other forms of law enforcement - then Face should be fine. James had done his research. Actually, he'd done it long ago. He'd been collecting newspaper clippings on the A-Team since he was eight years old.

"What do you think the chances are he's got some random bimbo in his bed right now?" Heather mused.

James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And yet he calls Mom just to chat in the middle of the night."

"That's what I call pathetic." She accented every syllable of that last word, making one word sound like a major statement.  
James shrugged. "That's just his nature. Like it's Mom's nature to date every loser she can find."

"Well, it's not very classy."

"He's lonely. Anyone can figure that out just by looking at him. Random bimbos are his way of dealing."

"Like Mom's way of dealing is to date assholes?"

"Yeah, exactly. If we could get them both to realize the correlation, it'd be much easier."

Heather's mouth pulled into a knowing grin. "I think what she needs is an exceptionally horrible loser to fall head over heels for. One we can use to show her she's not going to be happy just 'dealing'."  
"And maybe more importantly, one who can make Face realize he's not going to be happy if she settles for dealing with some doufus." James gave her a brilliant smile, one that came from finding a possible solution to a tricky problem. "There's a lot of those to choose from. The trick is how to get her to think she's serious and falling for the numbskull we pick."

Heather tossed her hair back as she shrugged. "Easy. Though getting _Face_ to think it will be harder."  
James shook his head, his own smile growing. "Face knows Mom. He can read her like a book. It's not like she makes it hard."

"So if he sees her falling in love, what's to make that any different from any other time?"

"Well, we'll have to _make _it different. And Face will have to meet the guy."

Heather frowned. "That could get messy."

"I'm counting on it."

Heather watched him for a moment, amused and curious. "You know, I think I kind of like your scheming side."

James smiled back. "Enjoy it. There's not a lot of things I'm willing to take this kind of risk for."

*X*X*X*

"BA, you okay?"

BA was not okay. "I don't like it, man. We ain't got no way to watch Face when he's up there with her."

Hannibal smirked slightly. "I think I can fill in the blanks."

Not the least bit amused, BA turned to look at Hannibal and glared. "It ain't funny, man. He got no way out of there, that high up. And we got no way of knowing if he in trouble."

Hannibal looked up at the towering hotel and the suite Face was in, somewhere up there. It looked even bigger when he had to duck his head down to see it out the window of the van.

"They've gone through enough trouble to make this public that he's not just going to disappear overnight without a trace. Whoever's behind this wants him in the public eye. Besides," Hannibal glanced at BA, "that woman's up there with him. If anything happens to him, she'll be able to tell us exactly what it was."

"That's if they don't just shoot him. Or if _she _don't."

"No, if anyone wanted to do that, they would've already done it."

"We don't know that. We don't even know who 'they' are, man."

BA glanced up at the building Face was in like he would be able to see the threat. He knew he couldn't and that made him want to do something, anything. Crossing his arms across his chest, BA's scowl deepened. He didn't like this.

"What do you know about 'Bull' Fullbright?"

BA's grimaced, "I know he got a glass jaw; can't take a punch for nothing."

Hannibal chuckled. "That sounds like the voice of experience talking."

It was one more reason he didn't like this setup. He knew Fullbright by both reputation and by personal experience. He didn't like either.

"Yeah, he got up close and personal with my fist at Lang Vei."

BA was aware that Hannibal knew all about his reputation for knocking out officers who thought he was nothing more then brainless muscle. Hannibal had even seen BA in action on more than one occasion. But there were still some things about his past military career that even Hannibal might not know. From the way the colonel was watching him - with that look he got that said he wanted the whole story - this was probably one of those things he didn't know. It would be easier on BA if he just gave up and told him now.

"He a real tough talker. Wants things his way and wants it now. Didn't like it much when I told him he was wrong."  
"Doesn't surprise me," Hannibal glanced away. "The guy's like a drill sergeant on a power trip. But he's got all the creativity of a brown paper bag."

"He stay inside the lines. They call him Bull 'cause he don't take no bull and he don't give no bull. I figured I was never gettin' out of the stockade after I knocked him a good one. Didn't matter if I was right and it kept some grunts from dying by stupid. Don't know what happened, but six hours later I was outta the stockade. They say it was a 'misunderstanding' and I never heard 'bout it again."

"That's typical C-Y-A speak for 'you were right and we messed up.'"

BA glared out the front windshield at the hood of the van. "Don't know how you misunderstand a right hook."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised to find out he's still holding a grudge."  
There was a shrug from BA. "Wouldn't be the first time he had a grudge. Bull's stubborn too. But why go after Face? Coulda just as easily made up some story bout me not being there as Face."

"Nah, Fullbright didn't do this," Hannibal said confidently. "He's not creative enough. Decker, yes, even though it's not his style. He doesn't have the patience for it."

"Maybe they workin' together."

Hannibal laughed. "Decker and Fullbright? You kidding?"

"Decker being all jumpy lately and Fullbright's movin' in. You think we in the middle of a turf war 'tween them two?"

Hannibal paused to consider that for a moment. "I don't know. That would depend on where Decker actually got transferred to."

"You think Fullbright got him transferred?"

"Who knows? Or should I say, who cares? Either way, I have a feeling that if he has any opportunity, Decker will be back."

BA scowled as he saw the amusement on Hannibal's face at that. "Why that gotta make you smile, Hannibal? I hate it when you smile like that. Always means we gonna be doing stuff that'll get us in trouble."

"Nah, all we have to do is wait. It's personal for him. The man can't stand to lose."

BA sighed. "Instead of looking forward to it, you should be figuring out a plan to get both the junkyard dogs off our backs."

Hannibal only chuckled. "Not yet. First I've got to see just how bound and determined they both are."

BA sighed. There was only so long and so far they could run from that kind of pressure while staying based in one spot. If they didn't turn down the heat, it was just a matter of time before at least one of them was being hauled away in cuffs. Or worse.


	8. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

When the excitement had died down from the "pardon" that had turned out to be - no surprise - anything but, Face had fully considered an actual vacation. He'd been expecting the mirage to disappear, but he hadn't been expecting it to happen quite so suddenly. One minute, he was a celebrity. Literally no more than an hour later, he had been staring down the barrel of a gun that he had no doubt would have blown him to kingdom come. It was a little more stressful than he'd anticipated, and he would not be doing that again. Hannibal was right - too much risk.

Instead of a cruise, though, he'd opted for a beach house. With Decker out of the picture, and the immediate threat of the unknown subdued, Hannibal was content with having a general idea of where this beach house might be. Face didn't mind in the least giving that. Especially not given his recent brush with death.

Jessica had been relieved. She'd tried to hide it, but hadn't been terribly convincing. Thankfully, there were more important things to talk about.

"So what's his name?"

Jessica's arm was locked through Face's as they wandered down the sidewalk that bordered the beach sand. "Whose?"

"I called last night and Heather said you were on a date with someone, and I'm quoting here, 'totally awesome.'" Face grinned slightly. "You haven't said anything about it, so it must have gone well."

Jessica shrugged. "It wasn't a date. We just went for coffee."

"At seven o'clock in the evening?"

"We just needed a place to talk."

"Who's we? You or him?"

The teasing tone, along with the smirk, made Jess shove him. He broke stride as he regained his balance, but the smile never fell.

"Nosy tonight, aren't you?" she challenged with a grin of her own.

He shrugged, and she hooked her arm in his again as they continued in silence for a few minutes. He wasn't trying to pry. He cared as much about her new boyfriend as he did about any aspect of her life. She was a friend. He wanted to see her taken care of, appreciated. But respecting the boundaries of that friendship - boundaries set by both sides, even if either side breached them from time to time - gave him neither right nor reason to pry.

"His name is Jason," she finally answered.

Well, if she was willing to talk about it... "What does he do?"

"He's a wedding consultant."

Face raised a brow, but didn't reply.

She laughed at the expression. "What?"

"A wedding consultant? He makes money in that?"

"Somebody's got to do it."

Face shrugged again, and looked away. "Kids?"

"No." She paused. "He's met Heather."

Something about the way she said it made it obvious that there was a story to be told there. "Oh?" he asked casually.

"She sort of introduced us." Jessica sighed. "Normally, I get irritated when she pulls this crap. But he's actually a nice guy."

"She does it often?"

"A few times. The last one was her science teacher. But we ran into Jason in the coffee shop she spends all her time at. Heather very 'innocently' spilled her drink on him to get us to talk."

Face smiled. "Maybe it was a genuine accident." He didn't believe it even as the words were coming out of his mouth.

"Oh, sure." Jessica didn't buy it either.

Face was quiet for a few steps. Staring out over the beach, he watched the joggers and the children, the tourists collecting shells and the dogs chasing the seagulls. It was therapeutic, calm. One of the many reasons why he loved Los Angeles.

"I'm sort of surprised that they're still trying," he finally said, quietly.

"Why?"

He glanced at her. "That they haven't made all sorts of inferences about me spending the night."

"It's not like we're sleeping together." She frowned at that. In fact, they'd shared her bed multiple times. They just stayed on opposite sides of it, and fully dressed. "Well..."

He chuckled. "I know what you mean. But whether it's true or not, the insinuation is there."

"They don't know."

"That in and of itself is surprising."

"They don't know everythingabout my life, Face."

"No. But _that_, they've been watching for."

She was quiet for a few minutes, walking slowly, keeping pace with him. "I could tell them," she finally whispered, so quiet he could barely hear her.

He hesitated. "Why haven't you?"

"I don't know."

The response was immediate. And safe. And a lie. He watched her, waiting for more.

Finally, she sighed. "Because that would make this... real. And it's _not _real." She glanced up at him, brow furrowed.

"Real what?" He felt her eyes on him, but didn't look at her. "Real love?"

She sighed that way that women did when they were exasperated with him. It made him smile every time he heard it. "I hate it when you throw that word around."

He laughed. "Throw it around? I asked a question. Besides, it's _your _word."

"That's the point. You don't understand what it means."

"So explain it to me," he invited, his voice still light and casual.

Her eyes on him turned to a glare and he laughed. But he didn't pursue the conversation. Yet another one of those boundaries. This one, he had no desire to cross. Instead, he stopped, and turned to walk down the steps to the sand.

She didn't follow him and he turned back, raising a brow. "You okay?" he asked.

"Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "You're the one who likes to walk in the water. I'm just -"

"Not about that."

He studied her for a moment, then shrugged again. He held out a hand in an invitation. "If you want to talk, I'll listen."

"Listen? Or humor me?" She descended the steps carefully, placing her hand in his.

"Listen," he assured her. "Though if the desired effect is to fall into each other's arms and live happily ever after, you may be disappointed."

She glared at him as she pulled her hand away. "Oh, fuck you."

The indignation in her tone was definitely not the desired effect.

"I'm kidding, Jess." He smiled as he slid his empty hand behind her, an arm around her waist.

"No, you're not."

"Exaggerating," he corrected. She didn't relax as he pulled her closer, walking with her toward the water. "What do you want from me? You and I both know this is the one thing I _don't _do well."

"Feigning interest?"

Face smiled. She was still trading barbs. Best thing to do was to ignore it. "No, I do that quite well."

She was quiet for a moment. Finally, she relaxed slightly. "What then?"

He shifted nervously. He didn't like talking about this. It made his whole relationship with her feel too... real. "Look, Jess, I would just as soon leave this as... whatever it is and not worry about it. But you wouldn't have called me if you didn't want to talk. And you wouldn't have kept talking about this guy when I was ready to let it lie if you didn't want to know how I felt about it. Am I right?"

Now it was her turn to be uneasy. "Don't tell me why I do things. It's-"

"The simple answer is, I'm fine with it," he cut her off. "I really am. If he's you fall in love with him, and _marry _him, I'm fine with that."

"But -"

"No, Jess." He stopped and turned to face her, setting his hands on her shoulders. "No buts. I'm being honest with you, okay? Look at me."

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes. He watched her for a long moment before he spoke again. "Listen to this, 'cause I'm only going to say it once," he whispered. "I'm here for you. _Always _here for you. But what you want, I don't have. And we both know that."

"What about what you want?" she asked.

He shrugged, a slight smile crossing his lips as he looked away. "What I want, I can get anywhere. I'm easy."

Her eyes studied him for a moment. Wary of her scrutiny, he turned and continued walking, slipping his arm comfortably around her waist again. For a few steps, she said nothing. Then he heard her take a deep breath and braced himself.

"What about what you need?"  
Well, that wasn't as bad as it could've been. "I don't need what I can't have. And my life, the way it is, there's some things I will never have. You fill in those holes as best you can and," he shrugged, "move on."  
"You really believe that don't you?"

There was no judgment, no teasing from her, just that same odd look. He could feel it even though he couldn't see it with his eyes forward.

"Our decisions have consequences. I've chosen my path, and I don't regret it. But it does mean that there's things I'll never have. I can either sit down and cry about it or I can make the best of what I've got."  
"So being able to feeling safe with each other - is that the thing you'll never have or is it making the best of what you got?"

"You and me?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Safety is relative. Anything more than whatever our friendship is falls into that category of things I'll never have."

"Because you choose not to."

"In a way."

She sighed, clearly exasperated. "I wish just for once you'd answer me straight instead of being cryptic."

He raised a brow as he glanced at her. "I'm not trying to be cryptic."

"Well, then you're really dense."

He smiled, amused by that, and paused in his slow walk. "Maybe you should spell it out for me."

She stopped and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "When and if I do find out he is everything I want, and I fall in love with him, and marryhim, then what we have is gone."

"Maybe. But that's my problem, not yours. I made the decisions that made my life the way it is. They've affected you, and I know that. But this one's mine to carry."

"And you realize that you choose to carry it, right? Because hiding behind 'it's the best I can get' doesn't fly with me."

"What do you mean?"

"You could have anything you wanted." She looked away, jaw tight. "And you could have me."

He hesitated for a long moment at her show of vulnerability. He was in dangerous territory here and he knew it. Best to proceed with caution.

Very gently, he reached up and brushed her hair back, behind her ear. "You start a conversation talking about your new boyfriend and somehow end up here?"

"_You _started the conversation talking about Jason. And he's not my boyfriend." She looked up at him, eyes pained. "But he could be. He's a nice guy."

Not unlike every other nice guy she'd dated.

"Good. I'm happy for you."

"Are you? Really?"

"Yes."

She shut her eyes, then sighed as she turned and started walking again dropping her eyes to where the surf pulled the sand out to sea. Her lighthearted tone was forced as she finally spoke after a few steps. "Well, this is all hypothetical still. I just started seeing him, so why worry about it?"

He smiled comfortably as she glanced up to see his reaction. "Of course."

His hand rested naturally on the small of her back as he turned and guided her along the beach again, relieved to be off a subject he didn't want to think about. His grin widened as he teased, "Though he must really be something if you made it all the way to coffee. That's somewhere between second and third base, isn't it?"

This time there was nothing forced in her smile. "Of course not. That's dinner and a movie."

His smile remained in place as he walked with her, relaxed, comfortable, and very glad that this very necessary conversation was over.


	9. Chapter Eight

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Face was just sitting down to dinner when the phone rang. Jessica looked up as he sat down, ignoring it. "Are you going to get that?"

"It's most likely not for me." He smiled. "If it is, there's an answering machine."

Hannibal's voice followed only a moment later. "Face, pick up the phone."

Face stood with a smile. "Excuse me. That's for me."

Jessica laughed as he turned away, walked to the living room, and picked up the phone before shutting off the answering machine on the table by the door. "Hello?"

"Face, I need you to get Murdock out and meet me at Mr. Lee's tomorrow."

"Sure thing." Face paused, noting the tone. Hannibal's voice was neutral, but there was something just not right in the way he clipped his words. "Everything alright?"

Hannibal was quiet for a long moment. Too long. He was choosing his words. "We may have a job lined up. I want to meet before I talk to the client again."

Face frowned. The team always had a say on the jobs they took. But usually that involved actually meeting the client. And it was very rare, at that point, that they'd turn it down. Hannibal usually did a pretty good job of filtering out the jobs that weren't worth their time.

"Who's the client?"

"No one, yet." He could hear the sound of a glass being set on a table. "Whatever cover story you use with Murdock, make sure that it can last at least a couple weeks if needed. With the extra attention we've be getting from Fullbright, I don't want any loose ends."  
Face's eyes widened slightly. "Weeks? Really?" That was defiantly unusual. "Where are we going, Antarctica?"  
"We're going to Mr. Lee's. Then, maybe nowhere." The rusting noise and the sound of footsteps let Face know Hannibal was up and moving. "I'm not going into details over the phone." Hannibal paused and took a breath that was so deep it almost sounded like a sigh to Face. "Just get Murdock and meet me tomorrow, and... be careful."  
There was no point in pressing for more. Face could tell by the tone that it would get him nowhere. "What time?"  
"Be there by ten."

"Sure thing."

Instead of hanging up like Face expected, Hannibal took another sip of whatever he had been drinking and added a quiet. "Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant."

Before Face could say anything more, the phone went silent.

*X*X*X*

"So let me get this straight." Decker's voice was borderline inappropriate for addressing a senior officer. "You pushed to get me reassigned because you thought you could do a better job of bringing in the A-Team in. You try for one month, they make a fool out of you, and now you're requesting for me to transfer back and work under you?"

"You wouldn't be working for me, Colonel," Fullbright answered firmly. The last thing he needed was a loose cannon like Decker under his command. "It's a temporary assignment for consultation only. Six weeks. No more."

"And I have the option to refuse," Decker reiterated.

Fullbright hesitated. "Yes. You do. Though I would strongly recommend you consider-"

"Cut the bullshit, General. We both know what this boils down to. You promised results and now you're realizing it's not so easy. Because it never is with the A-Team. So now you need me to help you _get _those results, so you can get one step closer to that next star. Now, does that sound about right?"

Fullbright slowly pushed back his chair and put his hands flat on the desk. Leaning forward on his arms he narrowed his eyes in on Decker. "Colonel, you can either go back and rot away in that hole in Alaska and spend the rest of your career seeing if you really can freeze your balls off, or you can assist in the apprehension of three fugitives who have made a god damned mockery of the Army and the law."

Decker's eyes narrowed. "But what you're saying, ultimately, is that I'm going back to Alaska anyways. Because that's where _you_ had me sent. So why on God's green earth would I want to help you?"

"Where you end up being assigned depends on just where in the hell the A-Team is six weeks from now. If they are locked up and awaiting trail, I'll send you anywhere you want to go."

Decker remained quiet for a moment, as if debating. Alaska was a miserable place to be stationed, but there were worse places. In the end, it was a very different consideration that he was weighing in the balance.

"Smith and I go back a long way, General. I can tell you right now, I'd love to see him behind bars by the end of six weeks, regardless of what you get out of it. But I'm not exactly sure I can operate within your stringent rules. Especially when Smith and his team sure as hell won't."

Fullbright's eyes narrowed. "What kind of rules do you have in mind?"

"The A-Team doesn't play by _any_ known set of rules."

"And you tried playing their game for years without success."

Decker eyed him distastefully for a moment, then turned and paced a few steps, looking around the office. "Where is the A-Team right now?"

"They were spotted getting on to an international flight from LAX. By the time we were notified they were gone."

"An international flight to where?"

"Cambodia."

Decker's eyes widened slightly. He couldn't help it. Of all the places he'd been expecting them to go, that was not one of them. "Cambodia? What the hell are they doing there? Who are they working for?"

"That's what I want to find out."

Decker frowned. "Well, you're going to have a hell of a time finding that out now that they're already gone."

Fullbright glared back at him. "We know where they're at. Which means we know where they have to come back from. It's a start. I'm also considering running down a source I have near a little resale shop run by a Mr. Lee."

Decker stared at him for a moment, but said nothing. "Well, clearly you don't need me for that. So with your permission, General, there are a few sources of my own I'd like to look into."

"Track down your sources then. But there will be no moving and _no _attempts to apprehend the A-Team without me present. If you get a lead on them, you _will _report back to me. We will go in with a coordinated effort. All men report to me. And that's an order."

"Fine." Decker's gravelly voice was flat and cold. "I'll be checking in with you tomorrow then, General. Have a pleasant evening."

Without another word, or waiting for dismissal, he gave a closing salute, then turned and walked out of the office.

*X*X*X*

The bar was cloudy with smoke, but Decker found who he was looking for right away. As he sat down in the empty stool next to Captain Crane, he was greeted with a smile and a handshake. "Colonel, it's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too."

Actually, Decker was a lot happier than he'd thought he would be to see Crane. The man had been reassigned, but kept in LA. He was the only real link Decker had anymore to the A-Team, even if his observations had been minimal and on his own time. He hadn't questioned it when Decker had called and requested to see him. He'd simply agreed, and then he was there.

"You in town for business or pleasure?"

"Business." Decker gestured to the bartender, ordered a whiskey, and leaned forward on the bar. "I have six weeks to 'assist and consult' General Fullbright on the apprehension of the A-Team."

Crane's jaw dropped in surprise. "Bull Fullbright?"

"The same."

"Oh, hell, Colonel. That man's got a stick so far up his ass it just about comes out the other side!"

"I'm well aware."

Crane hesitated for a long moment, not sure what else to say as he watched the bartender.

"It's a temporary assignment," Decker finally offered. "Six weeks, like I said."

"So what do you need from me?"

"Did you have a chance to check up on that woman we were looking at right before I left?"

Crane grinned. "Funny you should ask that, Sir." With a casual glance around them, making sure no one was watching, Crane reached around the back of his chair and pulled a folder from his briefcase. "I had a feeling you might want to see this. Her name is Jessica Summers and she has a very interesting story."

"Well, make it interesting and brief." Decker took the folder that Crane slid across to him, but left it closed until the bartender had come and gone.

"Jessica Summers was a nurse in 'Nam. She served at Lai Khe from March to November, 1969. Early discharge due to 'family matters'. Six months later, she gave birth to twins."

Decker frowned. A nurse getting sent home from a war zone pregnant was nothing unheard of. He wasn't sure where Crane was heading with this. But given the gleam in his eye he was heading somewhere.

Crane reached over and opened the folder. A moment later, he pulled out a photo and closed the file. "Meet Ms. Summers' twins, Heather and James."

As soon as Crane handed him the yearbook photos, Decker knew why he look so damn self satisfied.

"Remind you of someone, Colonel?"

Decker stared for a long moment at the photo that was a spitting image of a young Lieutenant Peck. "I'll be damned."

"That's just what I thought, too, sir."

There was no mistaking the resemblance. And there was no doubt in his mind that Peck was well aware of it as well.

"I did some further checking," Crane continued. "Peck's car has been seen in her neighborhood many times, and guess where now-doctor Summers works?"

Decker looked up expectantly, but didn't respond. He was still processing the last bit of information. It was a hell of a big piece to the puzzle.

"She works as an orthopedic surgeon at the Westwood VA, home of none other than Captain Murdock."

Decker stared at him for a moment, then down at the photo in front of him. "Have you shared this information with anyone?"

"No one seems to care much what I have to say. Fullbright's people pulled my reports, but I haven't heard anything from them. Besides, this was done on my own time. I was hoping you might find a way to come back and settle the score."

There was a cold look that passed over Crane's face. He had spent years being made a fool of by the A-Team, too. Decker paused for a long moment, staring at the photos.

"We'll get no credit for this, no matter what we do. And I don't frankly give a damn about Fullbright's stunning career. But damned if I don't want to see those three behind bars."

"You and me both, Sir. And I'm ready whenever you are."


	10. Chapter Nine

**CHAPTER NINE**

There was no way to tell what the A-Team had been trying to accomplish in Cambodia. Attempting to track down their client had only led to dead ends and senseless maneuvers. Summers was not in contact with them, and that wasn't really surprising. They'd had need for a reporter, once upon a time. But there was no reason to drag an orthopedic surgeon around with them. She was a liability, if anything.

In the end, staking out the airport was the only thing they could really do. And since there was no way to tell just what flight they would be coming in on, it was a large area to cover. In spite of the fact that he was waiting with baited breath, Decker didn't really expect to catch them coming off the plane. His highest realistic hope was to know when they were back in town - which is why he was so stunned to be informed by the control tower that an unexpected plane was coming in for a landing. It had been flying under the radar, coming in over the ocean. As it came within sight, it didn't take too long to identify it.

"Is that a _Russian _plane?" Crane asked, just as dumbfounded as Decker.

"Move out!"

Decker didn't bother to stop and think about why fate had finally smiled on him. After all these years, he didn't care. Smith was his, he was going to the stockade and Decker was going to be the one bringing him in. Dropping to a crouch behind the open door of his cruiser, he kept his eyes locked on his target, while the privates who were assigned to him were smart enough to do the same.

"Follow my lead, or you'll spend the rest of your military careers painting rocks in Cleveland."

Smith was slippery SOB. It would pay to wait until he and his team were out in the open with nowhere to hide.

"Colonel Smith! Come out of that aircraft with your hands on your head!"

As the door opened and the steps lowered, the men in the cars on either side of him readied their weapons. Decker tensed, ready for anything. He'd had Smith cornered before, and he always seemed to find a way out.

"Hold your fire."

The man in the open doorway was not Smith. Bony and sickly, with grey hair matted all over his head, scarred skin so pale white that it seemed to glow. There was so much filth and grime and hair, it was almost impossible to make out any details, beyond the fact that this man was not a member of the team. More than that, he was too tall and his skin too white to be Asian of any type. Western. American? Smith had been in Cambodia, what in the hell would he be doing with a half dead American in tow?

"Colonel Decker?"

The man's voice was so weak and scratchy, it was startling. Decker stood slowly and stepped around the car carefully to meet him.

"Yes, that's me."

As the exhausted man put his heels together and raised his hand to his forehead, the wind blew back the hair from his face. And suddenly, Decker knew. That look, the tears rolling down, the weakened attempt at a salute in spite of the fact that the man could barely stand...

The sunny, movie perfect California day suddenly gave way to monsoons and mud and rice paddies and blood and the eerie stillness Decker had known the first time he'd seen a living POW, snatched out of a tiny death camp near Pleiku. Death warmed over with haunted eyes that had seen too much of the worst humans had to offer. It was almost twenty years ago that Decker had seen that. But it was all just as real, just as surreal today. Past present and future all converged and collapsed in on each other, no one giving way to the other, just all layering and jumbling over each other creating a chaotic montage of pain, camaraderie, death, friendship and inhumanity.

"Captain Robert Dundry, US Navy. Four-zero-zero-three-zero-four-two-"

The man's strength gave out before he could finish. Decker caught him as he collapsed.

"Get this man a doctor!"

"Uh, Colonel?"

There were more.

"Holy Mary, mother of God..."

No living POWs in Southeast Asia. That was the official line. It was one of the few small comforts they had out of that damned war. They hadn't left anyone behind. And those who had gone missing, surely they were dead. Unable to pull his eyes from the scene unfolding in front of him Decker stood still as each man came to stand in front of him and saluted, giving their name, rank, and serial number. Decker forced himself to drag in air, fighting against the steel bands that seemed to clamp around his chest and the cold weight in the pit of his stomach.

At the bottom of the stairway leading down from what had to be a stolen Russian aircraft, stood Smith and Baracus with the unconscious and badly beaten body of Lieutenant Peck between them. For a moment, Decker was at a loss. He could not possibly be seeing what he was seeing. Smith, the A-Team, his career, and the rule of law all faded into that empty space between man and soldier, soldier and brother in arms.

"What do you want to do, Colonel?" Crane asked.

He didn't have to think about it. This wasn't about him, and it wasn't about Smith. It wasn't even about the Army. It was about the men they had lost, the men they had found and the ones that had been forgotten. Nobody outside of those who had been there, those who had seen and done, could ever really know. That was part of the soldier's job. To suffer the horrors of it so the people back home wouldn't have to.

Smith had gone back to that hell; he'd taken his men, one of whom had been beaten half dead along the way. He hadn't done it as a mercenary, or a legend for hire. He would get no credit for this. No way in hell the Army would let something like this be publicized. He'd done it as a soldier. And as a soldier himself, Decker could think of nothing but the complete respect he felt for the men standing at the bottom of those steps, waiting for his move.

Damn it.

"Help those men," Decker ordered. "Get some ambulances in here and call the general immediately. That's a stolen Russian military plane, and we don't need an international incident with the USSR."

"Yes, Sir."

As Crane headed away, Decker looked back at Smith. Thirty five years of practice brought Decker to perfect posture, his head at the exact angel, his fingers just brushing the brim of his hat as he held a West Point, honor guard perfect salute. The law would wait for another day. He would have plenty of time to bring Smith to justice for wrongs that could not be righted. But now, they were all bound by something older and deeper and impossible to explain. With military precision, Decker turned on his heel, putting his back to the A-team. His orders would wait while he saw to thirteen men who had given more than most people would ever know.

*X*X*X*

"They stole a Russian military transport plane and brought it onto American soil! And then you let them steal your _car_?"

There was no expression on Decker's face. He might as well of been a large wooden statute. One standing at attention, eyes fixed at some point in the distance.

"With all due respect, Sir, there was a lot going on."

"What was going on that the fifteen men you had at your disposal couldn't see to it?"

"I'm not at liberty to say. You'll need to talk to General Anston about that."

"Anston! Since when do you report to Anston!"

Decker's jaw tightened. "I was not able to get in contact with you. I was transferred to General Anston. It's my understanding that the plane is now his responsibility, or whoever he hands it off to. You'll have to take it up with him."

"Don't worry. I will."

Decker remained silent. There really wasn't much to discuss. Decker didn't know where the men who'd gotten off of that plane had been taken. He assumed that Anston had consulted with someone even higher up. Within the hour, three black, non-military vans had arrived with the general in his own vehicle, loaded the men, and then they were gone. Following their orders, Decker, Crane, and every one of those privates had reported for a formal, ridiculously thorough debriefing. At the end of six hours, Decker was really beginning to wonder how many ways he could say the same thing: he knew nothing. Finally, he was warned of the absolute need for discretion, and sent on his way.

"Would you care to tell me how they managed to steal your vehicle?"

Decker said nothing, staring at the spot on the wall in front of him. "You will need to discuss this with General Anston."

Fist slamming on the table, it took Fullbright a moment to yell back at him. "I don't give a damn about Anston! You had a job to do and you completely disregarded your orders! What the hell is wrong with you? Do you _want_ to be pushing papers in some hell hole for the rest of your life?"  
Decker's jaw clenched. Smith and his men had brought back American POWs, but not only would they get no credit for it, even the military itself would never know. Fullbright wouldn't know. The whole thing had been swept under the rug so quickly and efficiently, it was as if it had never even happened. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Decker wondered what would happen to those men that had been loaded into those vans.

"Do you have _anything _to show for the past week?"

"In the past week, the A-Team hasn't even been in this country."

"And what have you been doing to track them down?"

Decker sighed. Pointless to remind Fullbright that he _had _been waiting at the airport when that plane had come in.

"I do have a lead on Peck," he finally said.

"Then you damn well better follow it."

Decker had every intention of following it. In a few days, after Peck had a chance to recover from his injuries sustained in the mission that never happened. Once he was healed, that mission would necessarily cease to exist. It was the way the Army wanted it, and Decker was still their property, like it or not.

And he would still bring them in.

*X*X*X*

Jessica awoke to the sound of birds outside and sunlight on her face through the open window. It smelled like spring. Late spring. Almost summer. Warm and welcoming and lazy. Face was lying beside her. The bruises and damage that had been done to his body hadn't healed much in the few hours since he'd shown up on her doorstep. But at least she knew more now about what had happened to him. She even understood why he'd done it. It didn't change everything that she felt when she looked at him, lying still on the bed beside her. She hated seeing him hurt. She hated even more that there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

He didn't even stir as she brushed his hair back from his forehead. He was exhausted. Probably better to let him sleep. She stood slowly, carefully, and in a perfectly practiced, mothering gesture, tucked the sheet carefully around him. He moaned softly as he turned his face into the pillow, but his eyes didn't open. She watched him as he breathed, shallower than normal against the cracked ribs. But he looked peaceful. Safe. She walked to the window and pulled the curtain half-shut to keep the sun out of his eyes, then grabbed her robe off the back of the door and tucked it around her before slipping out of her room quietly.

James was downstairs, in the kitchen with his head down on the table, dead asleep. It was after 8:00. He was supposed to be at school. She shook his shoulder as she passed. "James, wake up."

He jolted awake, sitting up straight. "Oh! Shit!"

She grabbed the coffee pot and began to make the needed fuel. "Why are you still here, hon?"

He looked at the clock, and groaned as he rubbed his eyes. "Man, I must've..." He finished with a frustrated groan.

She filled the coffee pot, turned it on, then leaned back on the counter, wrapping her arms around herself as she studied James. It wasn't like him to be sleeping at the kitchen table, fifteen minutes after school had started. He liked school and was never late for anything.

"Are you feeling okay?"

He leaned forward, elbows on the table and head in his hands. "Yeah, just..." He sighed audibly. "Biology test today. I was up half the night studying. Thank God it's not until fourth hour. Would be a real drag to miss it after all that..."

She smiled faintly as he pushed himself up from the table, running his hands through his hair. He looked like he was ten - half asleep, hair sticking up - but he wasn't. He was growing and, judging by the way he was eating, he would soon be taller than her. Where did the time go?

His eyes slid closed again. "So tired..."

"Why don't you go lay down," she suggested. "I'll tell the school you had a doctor's appointment and I can drive you in time to take the test."

The sound of the doorbell interrupted any answer he might have had. James turned, glanced at the clock and then glanced at her with a questioning look. "Face?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Well, that was my only guess."

Jessica could feel the tension knotting in her shoulders. She wasn't expecting anyone and the events from the night before had her on edge. "Stay here," she told James.

"Something wrong?"

Scanning quickly, she reached into the jar of random kitchen gadgets she kept on the counter and grabbed the large meat fork. James was on his feet the moment he saw her reach for it. He wasn't staying here. He was right behind her as she walked to the door with the meat fork in hand.

"Who is it?" she called through the closed door.

"Military police, ma'am. Open up."

Shit.

"Just a minute please."

James' eyes were wider than normal as she turned to him. "Go to my room and tell Face the MPs are here. Then go to your room and lock the door."

James stared at her, stunned, and didn't move. "What? Face is here?"

"James, go! Now!"

James moved quickly, to the stairs and up them before she set the meat fork on the table by the door and opened the door a crack. Two men were standing on her porch. The shorter of the two was in front - a general by the insignia on his fatigues. Oh, hell. What was a general doing on her front porch?

"What can I do for you, General?" she asked in her best "surprised" voice.

The man behind him was taller and leaner - equally stern but there was something else in his eyes too. Concern? Uncertainty? It didn't really matter. Bottom line, she had a general and a full bird colonel standing on her porch. That was a very bad sign.

"Jessica Summers?"

Making sure to remain in the doorway so that they could not get past, she allowed the confusion she felt to show on her expression. But not the winding, tightening feeling of dread.

"Yes, I'm Jessica Summers. And you are?"

"General Fullbright, US Army. This is Colonel Decker."

"Ma'am," the colonel nodded to her.

Fullbright held up a photograph of Face for her to look at. "Have you seen this man?"

Falling back on instinct she avoid a direct answer, trying to buy time for Face and time for herself to come up with a good story. God, she really wanted some coffee. It was damn near impossible to do this before coffee. She glanced at the picture of Face, then back up at the two men.

"Why? What's going on?"

_Please let them think I'm an easily confused airhead... _

"He's a wanted fugitive, ma'am," Decker said flatly. There was no emotion whatsoever in that gravelly voice. It sent a chill down her spine. "He's armed and dangerous. Now when was the last time you saw him?"

Blinking in what she hoped would be considered confusion, she cocked her head to the side. "I didn't say I saw him."

"You didn't have to. The question was a formality. We already know you've seen him. The only question now is whether you intend to confirm the facts we already know or to get yourself arrested."

"Enough," Fullbright interrupted him with a glare.

Decker fell obediently silent, but his eyes never left Jessica.

"Look at the picture, Ms. Summers," Fullbright ordered. "Have you seen this man?"

She looked at the picture again. "Lieutenant Peck. He's a member of the A-Team. They're on the news from time to time."

"Do you know him personally?"

"He and I had a fling in Vietnam. It was a very long time ago. But I guess you could say I knew him very personally for about two hours or so."

"Have you seen him recently?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry."

"You are aware of the penalties for harboring a fugitive, Ms. Summers?"

She forced a smile. "I am. And I hate to cut this short, but I have to get my son to school. We are already late."

"You have a son. I don't suppose your son might've seen Lieutenant Peck recently."

Was that a question, a statement, or a threat? It was impossible to tell. She smiled. "As I said, I'm sorry I don't have time to answer any more questions, but I can give you the name of my lawyer and he can arrange something I'm sure. Unless I'm under arrest?"

She glanced at both of them, brows raised, waiting for their next move. By now, James would have done what she asked. That gave her a certain amount of confidence. Face and James would both be out of sight and safe.

Fullbright's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her carefully. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Summers."

Decker nodded as well. "Ma'am."

She watched them go, then stepped back inside and closed the door, letting out the breath she'd been holding as she placed her forehead against it. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and feel it against her ribs. She felt sick.

"You okay?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Halfway down the steps, Face was watching her. James was a step behind. She leaned back against the door and put her face in her hands, taking a deep breath and releasing it.

"I don't know." She swallowed and tried for a smile. "I need coffee and then I'll reevaluate."

*X*X*X*

"She's lying." Fullbright's fists were clenched as he moved to the car with a determined stride.

"And she's a civilian," Decker reminded him. "We can threaten her from now 'til kingdom come, but we can't touch her."

"LAPD can. They can arrest her on any number of charges. Harboring a fugitive, obstruction of justice..."

Decker sighed. "If you arrest her, and take her in, Peck will know about it. You'd better be _sure _you can get something to stick so you can throw her in jail. Because otherwise, all you've done is lost your best source."

"He'll already know. There's no way she won't notify him."

"Which is why I say we should _contact _the LAPD, get a warrant, and then sit on it."

Fullbright paused at that, and looked at Decker over the hood of the car before getting in. "What for?"

"If the neighbors are right, he comes here a lot. Sooner or later, he'll screw up. And when he does, we'll be right here, armed and ready."

Fullbright was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, he nodded. "Alright. Let's go."


	11. Chapter Ten

**CHAPTER TEN**

"Face?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you look like you just got worked over by a couple of big guys with baseball bats?"

James could see the debate of whether to lie or tell the truth in Face's eyes. He was ready when Face flashed him a smile - hard to do when his lip was still swollen.

"It's a long story."

"You look like raw hamburger, man."

Face turned away as he buttoned his jeans and reached for the button down shirt draped over the shower curtain rod. It was thinner than the jeans, and appeared to be drier than the jeans. With his back to James, he carefully raised the black T-shirt over his head to exchange it for the one in his hand. As soon as he pulled it up high enough for James to see the wrap around his ribs and the perfectly straight lines of bruises across his back, James' eyes widened. Just at the edge of the bandage, it looked like there were stitches. Broken ribs, and those marks weren't from being beat up. They were from being beaten.

"You were caned."

Face hesitated again, and moved a little more slowly as he put his arms into his sleeves and carefully pulled the shirt up to his shoulders. "Like I said, James, it's a long story. And I really don't have the time right now." He turned around and waved at him. "Do you uh... mind?"

"Yes, I mind," James said firmly. He didn't care if Face wanted out of the bathroom. He was worried and frustrated. "Somebody did that to you. Then the police show up, and I find you in my mom's bed. Now you're talking to me like I'm five."

Face sighed. "Alright, first off, there's nothing going on between me and your mom. We were talking; I fell asleep. Second, it was the military police. Not quite the same thing. And also not a shock. You're a bright kid. You watch the news and you know who I am. So don't bother playing dumb. Lastly, I don't have time to give you the gory details on where I've been the past few days. So if you don't mind, I have an appointment I need to get to and aren't you supposed to be at school?"

It was less of a question this time. Face was pushing past him. The hurt and confusion and worry flooded through him, along with the knowledge that he'd done something wrong. But he wasn't quite sure what it was. "I just want to know what's going on, Face. You're hurt bad. And..."

He stopped and dropped his head. Face paused and looked back at him for a long moment. But he didn't say a word as he grabbed his shoes off the floor and left the room, heading for the back door.

*X*X*X*

"I thought Decker was reassigned." Hannibal eyed Face as he carefully drew his shirt up over his head. "I was surprised to see him at the airport. He's not even supposed to be in the country."

"Well, unless that was his identical twin who happens to also be in the US Army and have a certain personal grudge against us, I'd say he's back. Maybe just for a visit, I don't know. But he showed up with Fullbright at Jessica's house. And he sure acted like it was official business."

Face carefully unwrapped the bandage from around his ribs, then turned the kitchen chair backwards and sat down, leaning on the back of it with his arms crossed under his head. Hannibal frowned deeply at the damage done to Face's back. The kid had managed to survive the same experiences they all had in Vietnam with far fewer marks on his body than the rest of them. But it didn't much matter now. More than a week after he'd sewn these wounds closed, Hannibal knew he sutures were ready to come out. But there was still that irrational part of him that thought if he just left them in there a little bit longer, by the time he took them out, the scars would look better.

"Itches like crazy, Hannibal."

So much for leaving the stitches in.

"It's healed up pretty well."

Face laughed. "Nice try. But you don't have to lie to me." He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "I do have access to a mirror, you know."

"It could've been worse."

"I could've been dead."

"Or worse than dead if they'd cracked your spine instead of your ribs."

"Can you just take these stitches out and spare me the happy thoughts?" As light and carefree as Face sounded, Hannibal was well aware that he was completely serious.

Sighing as he grabbed the tweezers and the scissors, Hannibal went to work. "Where are you staying?" he asked, his thoughts drifting back to Decker. The last thing they needed was a surprise visit.

"Drifting, at the moment," Face answered, head down on his arms. He made no effort to raise his head or speak more clearly. "Was with Jessica last night. With Candace the night before. Not sure where I'll end up tonight."

"Who's Candace?"

"You've got her number. Or at least somebody does. Whoever happened to be interrogating me at that particular moment." The light sarcasm earned a smile from Hannibal. "Honestly, sometimes I think you'd be much happier if I signed in and out with you everywhere I went."

Happier? No. Hannibal couldn't care less about the details of Face's private life. He didn't even want to know. But safer, yes. "That might not be a bad idea until we figure out what's going on with Decker."

Face smirked. "I figured you'd jump on that." He paused for a moment. "I still have the beach house. I might go back there."

"If Decker's got his eyes on Jessica Summers, he won't be giving up anytime soon."

Face sighed audibly. "Yeah, I know. I'm surprised he didn't play that card sooner, to be honest."

"You think he's known about her for a while?"

"Well, I never advertised it, but yeah, I figured he did."

Hannibal pulled the stitches carefully, one at a time, considering the situation carefully. "Does she know anything she shouldn't?"

Face glanced over his shoulder at Hannibal, brow raised. "She knows how to contact me, if that's what you're asking."

"Anything that Decker can use against you?"

"Legally? No. Though if he throws her in jail, I may have an issue with that."

"Would he get anything to stick?"

"No. But he could mess up her life pretty bad if he wanted to."

"What about the kids?"

"What about them?"

"How much do they know?"

Face hesitated. "They have contact information, too."

"How much do they know about your situation?"

"The basics."

"Enough for Decker to exploit how much they _don't _know?"

Face was quiet for a long moment. When he finally answered again, his voice was quieter. "Maybe," he admitted. "That really depends on just how dirty Decker wants to play."

*X*X*X*

"Hey, isn't that that army colonel who's been sitting in front of our house for the past week and a half?"

James looked up as Heather nodded to the man standing near the sidewalk, waiting. Very likely, he was waiting for them, since it was definitely the same guy.

"The one Mom said not to talk to?" Heather prodded, as if James was missing the point. And he was. Where was she going with that gleam in her eye and that smile on her lips?

"So?"

"What do you say we go find out why Face is beat to hell? I mean, since _he's _not willing to tell us..."

James hesitated. Something about that didn't feel right. Actually, a lot of somethings. "He's an MP colonel, Heather."

"So?"  
"So you know he wants to arrest Face, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, clearly, we're not going to help him do that."

"What makes you think he's going to know anything about Face's injuries, anyways?"

"Well, he'll know more than _we _do. Which is virtually nothing."

"I don't know, Heather."

Heather gave a frustrated groan. "You know, I like you better when you're scheming."

"Scheming about Mom and Face is one thing. Prying for information from someone who wants him behind bars is another."

"If he's trying to track down Face, he probably knows all kinds of miscellaneous things we don't have access to."

"And he probably thinks the same thing about us."

Heather smiled wickedly. She was still walking in Decker's direction. She didn't even slow down. "We don't have to tell him things in order to ask."

"Wrong. There's a certain amount of quip pro quo in every conversation."

As she locked eyes with Decker, she smiled, continuing toward him. "Watch and learn, Jamie."

"Heather." He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. "You're gonna get Face arrested."

She shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Face isn't here to arrest."

James had no immediate answer for that.

With a smile, Heather patted the side of his face. "Relax, brainiac. This'll be easy."

*X*X*X*

Decker had spotted them the moment they had rounded the corner on to the street. He'd been waiting for them. He smiled grimly as they approached, pushing himself from his resting point and making his way in their direction.

"Ms. Summers." He nodded slightly from one teenager to the other. "Mr. Summers."

Heather smiled as she offered a hand delicately. "You know my name. I'm afraid I don't know yours."

He took her hand, a short succinct shake - just enough to fill the obligation. "Colonel Decker. But somehow I doubt that's news."

"What do you want?" the boy demanded, his hands in his pockets.

A grim smile pulled at the corner of Decker's mouth. It was uncanny how much the kid looked like Lieutenant Peck. And he knew Decker wanted something. That was information in and of itself.

"Your father, Templeton Peck. When's the last time you saw him?"

Heather laughed, loudly and instantly. "Boy are you barking up the wrong tree."

Decker raised a brow as she shifted her books and put her other hand on her hip.

"I've never seen my father. James, have you ever seen our father?"

"Nope. Never. You must have gotten your information confused, Colonel Decker."

"And I don't know where you would've gotten it. There's nobody even listed on our birth certificates. Maybe you'd like to enlighten us."

Decker remained impassive. That was cute. Once they were through, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it and holding up Face's mugshot to show them.

"This man." He paused momentarily. "He's been spotted at your house several times."

"Really? By who? 'Cause I've never seen him."

"He's a dangerous military fugitive, Ms. Summers."

"Sounds scary."

"I know you know him. And I need to know when he's going to be coming back around."

James looked at the picture for a moment. "I don't recognize him. Maybe he changed his appearance."

"Maybe dyed his hair purple?" Heather suggested. "Don't suppose he has any kind of... identifying marks? Scars?"

"I hope for your sake you don't get close enough to see any of the scars he may have."

"What sort of scars? Where did he get them?"

Decker stared at the girl for a moment. Clearly, she thought she was being very smooth. But she had a lot to learn. Decker ignored her question as he continued.

"The more you help him, the more it's going to hurt you in the end. Your mom is going wind up spending a lot of time in jail for harboring a fugitive. You'll wind up in the foster system. Probably separated. So do yourselves a favor and tell me what I need to know, and I'll make sure to keep your mom out of it."

James laughed, hard and sharp. "Does that shit actually work for you? You go up to them, threaten them and the ones they love, and they just - what? - spill their guts?"

"It's not a threat, kid. Breaking the law ends poorly. And like it or not, that's a reality you'll have to live with."

Heather was studying the photo again, turning her head this way and that. "Maybe blue hair. With his eyes, that would look awesome."

Decker folded the paper again and slipped it back into his pocket. "The only difference is whether it's just Lieutenant Peck that goes to jail, or it's your whole family that gets destroyed in the process."

Heather tipped her head as she smiled at him. "So, how did you end up with a job like this? I mean, it's one thing to have a warrant out for someone's arrest. It's quite another to chase them around and threaten people you think they might have had contact with. What did he do, anyways?"

"I bet it was something stupid," James answered. "They just needed to give this guy something to do so they could get some real work done."

"The man escaped prison while awaiting trial for war crimes. Treason. Robbery. Since that time there's a list of other charges that continue to accumulate." He looked at them seriously for a moment. "I know he comes around to see you and your mother. How long do you think it's going to be before I catch him in your home? Then all these cute games you're playing turn into evidence."

James shrugged. "The thing is, Colonel, we're not playing any games. We've never met our father. We don't know a Templeton Peck. We've never seen that guy in that photo. So maybe you should stop wasting your time, and do something useful. Who knows? Maybe you'll even manage to catch the A-Team."

Decker smiled at that. "I never said he was part of the A-Team."

Heather gasped. "That's where I've seen him!" She smiled broadly at her revelation. "Black and white newspaper photo made his hair look darker. I'm surprised to see him as a blond. Though I really think he should go blue. Maybe green. It's a tossup."

"Why not pink?" James suggested. "No one would expect a hardened criminal to go pink."

Decker nodded slightly and took a step back. "Have a nice day, kids. I hope for your sake we don't see each other again. Though I suspect we will."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed back to his car.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

"I didn't expect to see you again."

Face blinked, shocked by the greeting or, rather, the lack of one. As Jessica stepped back from the door, Face followed her inside. As the words sank in, he was even more confused. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you left out the back door without a word?"

He could hear the defensive tone. She was looking for a fight. For a moment, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with that. "There were MPs in your front yard. What did you expect me to do?"

"Wait until they left?"

"I didn't know you needed me to stay."

She sighed as she turned and flopped down on the couch. "I just wish you hadn't felt the need to sneak out the back door."

"I wasn't sneaking."

"You didn't say goodbye."

"That's not uncommon."

She sighed. "We both know when you feel vulnerable you take off."

For some reason, her blatant psychoanalysis made his skin crawl. He stood straighter as he eyed her carefully.

"It's why you're a survivor," she continued after a moment's pause.

"And how do we both know that, exactly?"

"Seventeen years of experience?"

He frowned. He really didn't like that tone. Or where she was going with this.

"Why all the women, Face? Have you never asked yourself that?"

The abrupt shift in topic put him on guard. She was brooding over something. And she was looking to fight. "What kind of a question is that?"

"Now let's add to that the fact that the MPs are coming here now." It was like she hadn't even heard him, like it had been a rhetorical question. He wasn't even sure what answer she'd been anticipating. "It's not safe anymore."

"You want me to leave?"

"No. But I knew you would blame yourself for that colonel being such an asshole to the kids and I -"

"Wait a minute, Decker came after the kids?" Face wasn't surprised. But he wasn't happy to hear that either.

"Today at school. They didn't tell you?"

"No."

"I thought for sure Heather would've. They probably don't want you to feel guilty. That's a problem I guess I just don't have."

Face's eyes narrowed. It was like she was going from point to point, just trying to find one he'd react to. He didn't like this game.

"How about you let me worry about my own guilt issues? You've got enough problems of your own."

"Yes. I do. And I don't want to be the reason you're doing thirty years in the stockade."

"So that's your way of saying you _do _want me to leave then."

In all of his years of reading women, he was still clueless when it came to things like this. She wanted something, but he didn't have a clue what it was or why. He was flying blind, and he didn't like it. Better to just duck out of the conversation and come back when she was a little less emotional.

He glanced up as Heather came down the stairs, and skirted around them on her way to the kitchen.

"If you want to leave, you go right ahead."

"That's fine. But don't make it out like I don't want to be here. Like I'm not _trying _to be here."

The teenager's sigh was audible. "Really wish you two would just fuck and get it over with."

Face did a double take, and his jaw almost dropped as Jessica yelled an irritated, "Not _now_!" at her, then turned back to him. "I don't want you to leave Face. It's just what happens. It always does."

Face barely even heard her. He was still staring after Heather as her words slowly sank in. His eyes reverted to Jessica suddenly, brows raised. "Is _that_ what this is about?"

"What?" Jessica sounded confused.

Face caught the words before they left his mouth, and searched for a better way to word them. "Is this some kind of game to get me to..." _fuck you?_ "care?"

Heather's voice echoed, all the way from the kitchen. "Give that man a cookie!"

Jessica's anger was sudden and overwhelming. "Heather, _enough_!" She turned to glare at the open doorway. "One more word out of you and you're grounded!"

Heather wore a smirk as she paraded back through the living room, heading back to the steps and up to her room with a glass of milk and a handful of cookies. She offered one to Face with an innocent smile as she walked past, and he glared at her.

"Stay out of this," he warned.

She shrugged, but didn't speak as she darted back up the steps. He waited for the sound of her door closing before he looked back at Jessica. "Is that what this is about?" he asked again, with less surprise and more sincerity.

Jessica lowered her head, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn't answer. Face found himself staring at her, bewildered. More than that, he wasn't entirely sure how to respond. She'd never struck him as the type to try manipulating _him_. Though given Heather's words, he wasn't even sure if she realized she was doing it. _Was _she doing it?

Maybe he was reading too much into this. She'd been clear about her intentions - and her opinion of him, for that matter - from the very start. It hadn't been that long ago that he'd tested those boundaries in this very room, just to see if they had changed. And they had, but not in the way he'd been expecting. She'd turned down his invitation for casual sex not because she didn't want him but because she did. That much was made abundantly clear in a hotel in Las Vegas, just in case he hadn't gotten it the first time around. She didn't want sex. She wanted love.

She was a friend, and she was _very _female. He recognized that. But pheromones were a world apart from actual desire. When he was close to her, he was very aware of her. There were times when he'd entertained the thought of bedding her. But she wanted to be loved; she wanted something he couldn't give. Bedding her meant manipulating her, by default, and he'd made a decision long ago that he wouldn't do that. She was a friend, and she was worth more than that.

And, hell, whatever happened to the guy she was dating? He shouldn't have to worry about this until she was done with him, at least.

She still wasn't answering him. Her silence was answer enough.

"Right." He rubbed the back of his neck and cast a sideways glance at the door. Ten steps from here to there. "I think I'd better go."

"Yeah," she answered quietly. "I know."

She turned away, and he watched her disappear into the kitchen before he turned and headed for the door without another word. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until it escaped in a rush in the cool air outside.

*X*X*X*

Face was staring at the catering truck, hands on his hips, with a worried look on his face. "This does _not _look like the same catering truck we left the set with." He glanced at his watch. "And if we don't burn rubber to get back to LA, we're not going to make crew call tomorrow, either. Because after last night, if I don't get at least a good six hours, there is no way I am making it out there to start cooking for two hundred people at oh-dark-thirty."

Hannibal chuckled. "Face, you would've made a great mess sergeant."

Face turned and glared at him, a little perplexed by how lightly he was taking the situation. "Hannibal, I am responsible for this van that we just painted grey and boarded up."

"And I am sure you will find a hundred different ways to explain the usefulness of its new outfitting."

Face sighed, stared at the truck for a moment, then looked away. It wasn't worth getting upset about. One way or another, it was all the same in the end. And it wasn't like he hadn't known full well when they destroyed the truck that it was going to be a problem. Besides, he had other things on his mind. This mission had been a very good distraction, for the time being. But the thought of going back reminded him of what was waiting for him back in LA: namely, a hell of a lot of confusion. Maybe he could just avoid it altogether. There was no rule that said he had to see Jessica when he went back.

"What's on your mind, kid?"

Face blinked, and shook his head slightly as he suddenly realized he'd been staring into space. "How I'm going to get that catering truck back, for one." Best to stick with the obvious, although he knew that Hannibal was more than capable of calling him on his shit.

"I suggest a tow truck. Either that, or a box large enough to fit all the pieces inside."

Face glared. Hannibal grinned and paused long enough to pull out a half smoked cigar from his chest pocket.

"Now that we got that out of the way, what else is on your mind?"

Face sighed, and raised his hand to massage away the headache that was forming. "I think I'm _really_ starting to need that vacation."

"Vacation? You just had one!"

"No, I mean a real vacation. Like the Caribbean. Or somewhere in Europe."

Face started toward the truck at a leisurely pace, well aware of Hannibal walking beside him. He wasn't really trying to get away, just trying to get out of the sun before he started to sweat.

"I might be able to arrange something overseas..."

"Vacation, Hannibal," Face said again. "As in no AK-47s. Or... drama."

"You know, most people would think the drama comes _with _the AK-47s."

Once he got to the truck, Face opened up the side door and sat down inside, feet on the ground. He didn't need to look at the inside of the truck to know that it was trashed too. Where was he going to find another truck to replace this one? Not his biggest problem right now. He sighed again.

It wasn't Jessica's moodiness that had his brain tied up in knots. She got like that from time to time, and he knew it was best to just avoid her until she figured it out. What bothered him more - much more, in fact - was Heather's little addition to the conversation.

"Jessica's daughter..." Face shook his head, keeping his eyes away from Hannibal. "I think when it all comes down to it, I'd rather deal with the AKs."

Hannibal chuckled. "Most of my experience with kids involved teenagers _with _AK-47s. Or M-16s. A volatile combination, in either case. Kind of like fire and gasoline. But when you do it right, the results are spectacular."

Face looked up at him just long enough to shoot him a glare meant to run him through. "Maybe _you _should take a crack at her, then. I'll stand back and watch the show."

Hannibal raised a brow, grin widening. "Do you think Jessica would mind if I used live ammo?"

"Jessica's got her own opinions about how old sixteen is. She and I don't agree. And I'm fine with that because it's really none of my business. They're _her _kids. They just..."

Face trailed off, shaking his head. Hannibal waited for him to continue.

"I get this feeling like they're... I don't know. They're just a little too interested in things they have no business in." He glanced up again. "Like me poking around with you and Elaine."

"You're involved with their life. They'll poke around. It's human nature to want to know about people who matter."

"Depends on what they're poking at."

"And what they intend to do with that information once they have it."

"Yeah, and that's the problem. Because when you're poking in things you have no business in, there _is _a motive."

Hannibal took a puff of his cigar and let the smoke roll around his mouth as he held the cigar in his hand and studied it. "Tell me something, Face."

"Hmm?"

"Are you worried they're out to do you harm? Blackmail you? Or is this just some domestic meddling you somehow got yourself in the middle of?"

Face found himself staring blankly at Hannibal for a long moment. The thought that they were being truly malicious hadn't even crossed his mind. "If they were trying to make themselves a threat, all it would take is one phone call to the military police. We _all _know that. And they've never made any statement to that effect. Even when Decker's approached them."

"Well then, they either want to see less of you or more of you."

"I'm well aware," Face said dryly. "Problem is, in either case, the way they're going about it is making Jessica all kinds of emotional. Which makes me _really _need that vacation I was talking about."

"Well, unless you intend to stay on vacation indefinitely, then you're going to have to deal with it at some point."

Face raised a brow. "Deal with it?"

"I suggest the head-on approach. And better sooner than later. No sense and letting a teenager think they are in charge. It'll just make it harder in the end."

Face watched him, not entirely sure how to take that. It sounded almost like parenting advice, and that was something he wanted no part of. Besides, who was Hannibal to talk? But that smile on his face - not a grin, not a smirk, but a smile - was pretty damn close to understanding. Maybe even understanding better than Face did.

"If you don't meet them head on, they _will_ keep at it. Trust me, Face. I know a thing or two about headstrong teenagers."

As he turned to walk away, he called the last of his advice over his shoulder, letting Face do with it what he willed.

"Never lie to them, never make a promise or a threat you don't mean, and never let them think they're in control. Any one of those things will lead to trouble."

*X*X*X*

Things were not going as planned. That idiot colonel was everywhere they turned. Mom was sulking instead of going out and enjoying her dates with the asshole of the month - an asshole Heather had gone to special lengths to hook, no less - and Face...

James stopped his pacing and pushed his glassed up. He really didn't want to think about Face right now. For a long time, James had considered Face a friend, and had thought that Face liked him. Not like his mom's other "friends" who would take him to a ballgame or to play catch in some vain attempt to score points with him so that maybe he would put in a good word with his mother. But really liked _him_.

James had to suppress his eye roll at the memories of those long, awkward "man times" and the silence that would come when they figured out James wasn't into sports or looking for a new "Daddy." Not one of them ever asked to spend time with him twice. Not once they figured out he wasn't of any use to them.

Face hadn't been like that. He never tried to be a daddy or a pal, and somehow he had ended up as a friend. A person James could count on to tell the truth, and not try and edit things so that he looked better or more impressive.

A small frown appeared as he replayed the scene in the bathroom. It was the first time he had ever said no to Face. He wasn't going to buy the typical, "I'm fine, things are great," adult crap. Not from Face. Turns out, calling him on his bullshit had been a mistake. Face had shoved him aside and walked away, without a second glance. And to top it off, he hadn't done so much as call since then.

"This is not going well." Heather's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She dropped her books on the desk next to the door as she entered without knocking. "That idiot colonel needs to stop sitting outside and watching the front door."

James sighed. "Even if we _could _get Decker to beat it, we need Face to actually come around."

"He'll come around again."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's Face."

That seemed like a simple enough answer.

"But the _last _thing we need is for him to get himself arrested. So I don't know if that's really a good thing."

There was an instant, instinctual reply to that, but James held it back. Face coming around was supposed to be a good thing. But maybe Heather was more right then she knew.

James sat down on the floor and stared at the carpet for a moment. "Maybe this whole plan wasn't a good idea."

"The _plan _is fine," Heather said with such conviction he had to look up at her. "The _colonel _needs to go."

"The plan _isn't _fine, Heather."

She pulled aside the curtains over the bedroom window just enough to peer out at the car across the street.

"Face is MIA, Mom's off sulking, and we have the _Army _breathing down our necks. None of that was in the plan."

She rolled her eyes, letting the curtain fall back in place. "I told you, Jamie, Face will be back. If he wasn't, he would've said something and Mom would be crying her eyes out."

"Who says she's not?"

"No, she's just sulking. Besides, I'm not worried about her. She's out with Jason as we speak."

James' eyes widened. "How did you manage that?"

"I called him and pretended to be her. Left a message on his machine, asked where he's been. He was calling within the hour and at the door in two."

"Great. So now we're countingon the asshole to make her feel _better_?"

"The ball has gotta be in Face's court. Seeing her happy with Mr. Dickhead is the best chance we have of making him realize what he's got to lose."

James sighed. "I don't know, Heather. He's never realized it before."

"Which is why she has to be extra happy!" Heather folded her arms as she glared at James. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

James stared for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"All this defeatist bullshit coming from you all of a sudden. Are you bailing on me 'cause Face hurt your feelings? Jesus, Jamie, get over it."

For a moment, all James could do was gape at her. He wanted a comeback, but nothing came to mind. No matter which way he turned it, and no matter how much he hated the fact that she was so damn blunt about it, she was right. James had known Face for eight years, half of his life. Face had been his very own brand of constant, and friend. But James was willing to judge him based on a few harsh words and the brush off. It wasn't like Face owed him an explanation, and that colonel _had _just come knocking on their door. And Face had been beat to shit and back.

Maybe he was overreacting.

Heather turned to look out the window again. "I don't like all the waiting, watching her stumble through all the confusion and emotions and love and bullshit while he stands there looking at her like a moron. I swear, she could _jump _him and he wouldn't get it."

"Heather? Ew."

"Yeah, yeah. Ew. But might I remind you, that's the _goal _here. She'll follow him to the ends of the fucking earth if they can just get that far."

"I think-"

He was cut off by the sound of someone in the doorway clearing their throat. With a sudden sense of dread, he turned his head towards the open door. Face was leaning casually in the frame, hands in his pockets, watching them. There was nothing in his expression that gave away how much he might have heard or what he could possibly be thinking.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

It was so calm, so polite, he could have just asked them about their favorite new age band. James was still composing a reply, untwisting it from that sinking feeling that had knotted up in his stomach, when Heather jumped in.

"Interrupting? Not at all." If she was surprised to see him, given the MP car still parked outside, she didn't show it. Instead, she just smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"I can tell you what you can _not _do for me," he answered with a smile. "But I think you could probably figure it out for yourself."

Heather smiled innocently. For the moment, James let her do the talking. She'd always been better at getting them out of trouble when they'd been caught red handed.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Face sighed. "Look. I appreciate the fact that you two have your mom's best interest in mind. I'd even be willing to go so far as to thank you for your concern over _my _well-being. But I'm going to remind you very politely that your mother's emotions are not tools for you to use to your ends. And I advise you to take it to heart, because next time my reminder won't be so polite."

This time, Heather said nothing. James had nothing to add. Without another word, Face turned and walked away. James let out the breath he'd been holding as his eyes slid closed.

"Damn."

"Whatever."

Heather was dismissive, as if this changed nothing. James stared at her, confused.

"Maybe he'll think about it."

"And maybe he'll end up ten shades of pissed off if he even _thinks _we keep going on with this plan."

Another shrug was all Heather offered in the way of remorse. "Who cares if he's pissed off? Hell, if he is, it's probably because he knows we're _right_."

James sighed again and put his head in his hands. They were getting in way over their heads with this, whether or not Heather could see it. And he didn't like it.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Face paused on his way back down the stairs as movement outside the window caught his eye. He was on heightened alert since Decker had begun hanging around. But it wasn't Decker. It was Jessica, and a dark haired man at least ten years older than her. There was no voyeur in Face for that sort of thing, but it was like watching a car wreck - he couldn't look away. He hesitated, watching through the window as they kissed good night. She looked happy. Good.

He headed to the kitchen and filled a glass of water from the tap, waiting for the sound of the door opening. There was a smile on Jessica's face when it did. Humming softly, she set her purse by the entry table and made her way to the kitchen. She let out a startled gasp as she saw Face standing there, watching her.

"Jesus, Face, you scared the hell out of me!"

He smiled, raising his glass in some semblance of a wave. "How was your date?"

His eyes wandered over her, but he was careful not to let them linger. He wasn't sizing her up. He didn't want her to feel like he was.

"It was very nice, thanks."

"Ah, nice." He smirked. "One of those words that means absolutely nothing."

Actually, he could tell a lot more by looking at her than what she was saying. She was still smiling, but it was guarded. She'd had a good time and didn't want to ruin that feeling. She was wary of him, and wasn't prepared - vulnerable and she knew it. And she was blushing.

"Well, it was," she said again. "It was a nice dinner, nice wine, nice conversation. I mean, he's not _you_, but he -"

She cut off, eyes widening slightly as she realized the words out of her mouth and quickly looked away. Face raised a brow. Best way to handle that slip up was to pretend as if he hadn't caught it. "But?"

She took a deep breath and let it out. "But I had fun," she finally finished. "He is nice and he... I don't know. He makes me feel like there's... hope, you know?"

"Hope?"

"Yeah, hope. Like maybe not all men are complete assholes."

He smiled knowingly, watching her as he took a sip from the glass. Her blush spread from her cheeks to her ears and all the way down to her chest. It was a dead giveaway that amused Face to no end.

"You got laid."

"Face..."

He wouldn't have thought she could get any redder, but she did. He watched her as she started to speak, started to deny it, then stopped. She finally finished in a voice that was slightly resigned.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes. I did."

She walked fridge and grabbed the open bottle of white wine from it. Face's knowing smile remained in place as he opened the cupboard and took down two wine glasses, setting them on the counter with a quiet clink.

"Is he any good?" he teased as he took the bottle from her hand, poured, and set it on the counter.

He watched her squirm as he handed one of the glasses to her. Her confidence was slipping, and she was looking for a change of topic. "Why are you here, Face?"

He sipped from his glass, then set it on the counter as he stepped past her and put the wine back in the fridge. "Wanted to have a little talk with your daughter about what is and isn't appropriate to say in front of grownups."

The look of dread was undeniable. "Oh, no. What did she do now?"

"Nothing new." He wandered back to the counter. "It was that comment the other day."

"Huh?"

"About you and I. Which does rank pretty high on the 'things not to say to your mother' list."

She blinked at him, confused. "You came out here just to have a talk with her about _that_?"

He smiled as he grabbed his glass again, but didn't reply.

She sighed. "Face, I will never understand you."

"I don't want it getting blown out of proportion."

"Hah, too late."

He watched the way she drained her wine glass in a few quick gulps. Stress. She needed something else to focus on. "So now I've answered your question," he said with a smile. "How about you answer mine?"

She shook her head before answering him offhandedly. "Why do you care about my sex life?"

"I don't. I just like watching you blush."

And blush she did - all the way down her neck to her chest. But something wasn't quite right. She had that guilty, happy look - the goofy smile that was a dead giveaway. But there was something else in her eyes, too. It was almost sadness, but a sadness she wouldn't admit. The latest candidate for her white knight had let her down. Whether she even realized it or not, he could see it in her eyes - the debate, the analysis, the reconsideration of just how much she'd be willing to settle for.

That look in her eyes elicited unfamiliar emotions in him. There was something protective and concerned. It wasn't the love that James and Heather were trying to make him feel. It was far simpler than that. He didn't want to see her hurt. And very suddenly, he could see in her eyes the potential for a very bad outcome. She was settling again. And for whatever reason, she was trying very hard to convince herself that Jason really was her white knight.

"So you didn't answer me." He'd push just a little further, just to see how far he could safely go.

"Best I've had in a long time," she retorted, defiantly.

He watched her for a moment. Best to leave it at that. And ultimately, the fact of the matter was that it really didn't have a damn thing to do with him. None of his business.

Face set his glass in the sink, and turned towards her. "I'm going out of town tomorrow. Arizona. There's a tourist attraction of some sort - a mission or an old west town or something like that - run by a group of senior citizens that..." He shook his head as he realized the details of the mission wouldn't matter one bit to her. "Anyways, I'll be gone for a few days. If you need to get a hold of me, call the van. Okay?"

"Already? You just got back."

He smiled. "What can I say? Hannibal's on the jazz."

She shifted uncomfortably, lowering her eyes. "That colonel came back here today."

He paused, and his expression turned serious as he waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he prodded. "Decker?"

She nodded.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He just sat outside, watching."

"Actually him? Or just some MPs."

"No, him."

That wasn't good. If Decker had taken a personal interest in her, he wasn't going to let up just because he grew bored. Of course, Decker really shouldn't be here at all. Maybe Hannibal was onto something, keeping them away for a while, tied up in missions. It would give things a time to settle down here. Maybe it would give Decker a chance to go back to wherever the hell it was he was stationed at.

"Do you want to spend the night?"

Face blinked, startled out of his thoughts about Decker and missions and MPs and jailbreaks. What had she just asked? It took him a few seconds to process the question that seemed to have come right out of left field.

"Your boyfriend might not like that."

"That doesn't matter."

He frowned. Bad sign. Either her new man couldn't care less - and a white knight would - or she didn't care what he thought about it. In either case, this had the potential to end very poorly.

"It's not like you and I are having sex," she justified quickly. "There's nothing... I mean, we're not doing anything wrong."

He watched her quietly for a moment. He really needed to get out of here.

"I really do like this guy, Face."

"You don't have to convince me. Hell, I'm more convinced than you seem to be."

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "I want you to understand. I don't want you to be jealous."

"Jealous? Of you?" Was she kidding?

"Of him."

"Why on earth would I be jealous?"

She was looking at her wine glass as she shrugged.

He sighed. "Look, Jess, if you like this guy, go for it. If you want my opinion of him, I'll be happy to give it. But as far as being jealous, we both know I don't have what you're looking for."

"Oh hell no. Don't you dare start that shit again."

He blinked as he suddenly realized the anger in her tone. He was under attack, and it completely blindsided him. What the hell was this game? "Start what again?"

"You're the one who doesn't know what he's looking for."

He stared blankly at her. That wasn't what he'd said, and it sure as hell wasn't what he'd meant. But he didn't have a chance to correct her before she was speaking again, her voice rising in both tone and volume.

"I _know _what I want, damn it!"

And there were those emotions again. What the hell had he said _now_?

"I never said you didn't. I just said that I don't have it."

"Exactly! You said that, not me, so get it straight."

For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, brow raised. He was lost. For all the manipulative word games that he could play in his sleep, a female with hormones that seemed to make her just want to argue without any sense of logic or reason was completely beyond his realm of understanding. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? He never let relationships with women get to the point of an argument - with good reason. He didn't know what to do with angry, emotional women. He certainly didn't know how to calm one.

"I'm using your words, Jess. Verbatim."

"From eight years ago!"

"What difference does that make?"

"People change, Face. And those are _your _words, verbatim."

"People change the way they process their situation in life. They don't change who they are on a basic level."

"God, Face, you are so _dense_!"

He frowned at the insult, and the first flicker of offense he felt. "Tell me again, how did we get into this discussion?"

"You know what? Just forget it."

He shook his head and set his glass on the counter. "I'm not going to play this game, Jess."

She laughed - a sound full of bitter sarcasm. "Templeton Peck not play games? Now there's a first."

"What I mean," he paused to glare pointedly at her, "is that if I'm appearing dense, maybe you need to communicate a little bit clearer. Because I can mind-read better than most, but it's not my responsibility to decode you."

"Responsibility? I didn't know that word was in your vocabulary."

Another blatant insult. This one, he suspected, was meant to be personal. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What? Areyoujealous?"

There was that word again. Where was she getting that word? Certainly it wasn't from anything he was saying.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"Hell no."

"Good. Because you should know, that's not going to get you anywhere."

"No shit! You know what? Fuck you!"

"Should I?"

She glared. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're giving off a lot of vibes like that's exactly what you want."

She stammered for a moment, eyes wide and face flushed, before she finally found words. "You have no right to talk about mixed signals!"

"Is she right?"

"Is who right?"

"Heather? Do I just need to fuck you and get it over with? Use you and break your heart so you can move the hell on?"

Jessica's reaction to those words was visible, and completely void of the expected anger. She looked hurt. Not his intention. He took a step back, and she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself.

"Don't do me any favors, you insensitive prick."

"Youstarted this Jess. What are you trying to accomplish?"

"Wrong!" She was still hugging herself, but the glare was back in her eyes. That hurt look was gone. Good. Anger was much safer. "Y_ou _started it. By interrogating me about my sex life."

"I asked a harmless question."

"Harmless my ass. But if you want a complete answer. Fine." She put her shoulders back in a more defiant stance. The redness in her cheeks now was from anger, not embarrassment. "You can't compete with Jason, he loves me."

Face laughed, both at the thought that he was trying to compete and at the fact that she actually believed love could happen that fast. "Oh, I'm sure he does. He's screwed you, so now it must be true love. Is that _really _how you think?"

"Look who's talking!"

"I never claimed to understand love. But by that definition, maybe I'm wrong. I ought to be an expert by now."

"He actually _cares _enough to listen to me. He _wants _to know me."

"And for all his vast knowledge, he still can't get you off?"

_ Stop saying these things, damn it!_

He didn't have a chance to take it back. Her open palm hit the side of his face with a resounding crack, and he let the stinging fade for a moment before looking back at her.

"Leave," she ordered, glaring at him. "Now."

Face was out the back door without another word. The last thing he heard on his way out was her yelled, "Bastard!" and the sound of a wine glass shattering against the door that he closed between them.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

There was no telling how long it was going to take before BA got his van back from the Indian chief at the Mission de la Paz. Face was a bit surprised that Murdock had lived through the experience of sharing about the deal he'd made with the chief - an even trade of the van for the horse Rosie. Hannibal seemed to think that the van would come back on its own. BA wasn't happy with that solution; he'd been out actively searching for it most of the afternoon. Until he found it, they were stuck in the little wild west tourist town, with the newly acquired historic monument.

Two run-ins with General Fulbright, plus the antics of some hired muscle and the Army colonel who'd hired them, a near capture, a handful of explosions, and a diminutive sum of money was just another day in the life of the A-Team. But as the adrenaline wore down, and they prepared once again to head back to LA, Face found to his shock that Hannibal didn't seem to have another mission waiting in the wings. That meant a break. It meant time in LA to sort things out - something they hadn't had in several weeks.

He'd been avoiding a lot of things in all that time. He hadn't talked to Jessica in over a week. Really, he didn't particularly want to talk to her now. Those dramatics were getting out of control, and he wanted nothing to do with them. Besides, she'd made it pretty clear where they both stood.

But that all fell under the category of "things he had to deal with later." Right now, he needed to kill a few hours. And there was a pretty woman at the tiny little post office down the street who would make those hours pass very enjoyably. He'd run into her earlier, and it would be very nice to "run into" her again. It also wouldn't be difficult since he knew right where to find her.

"Mister Secretary," she greeted with a smile.

Face's smile somehow managed to get brighter. Of course she remembered him, they always did. Somehow that made his back arch just a bit more as he leaned on the counter in front of her.

"Oh, I'm so glad you came back! I wanted to let you know, those papers you had me send off, one of your coworkers came in just after you left and said they should've been filed with his office. They didn't have to go to Washington after all!"

"Mmm, yes. It all worked out very nicely," he paused just long enough to let her wonder if he remembered her name, "Monica."

She smiled and glanced around the room over his shoulder. "Um, where's your... friend?"

"Oh, he's back at the office."

"Oh."

She looked at him uncertainly, probably noting that he didn't specify what office or what that meant.

"Well, is there anything I can help you with?"

He smiled internally. He really could have these conversations all by himself if he wanted to. They ran like clockwork and he knew exactly what footwork to lay down to get the desired response. "Actually, I'm not here on official business. I just wanted to thank you for all of your help the other day."

"Oh." For a moment, she was taken aback. But she smiled. "Well, it was nothing really. Just doing my job. I'm glad I was able to help."

Right.

"Well, Monica, I seem to have some unexpected down time, and I was thinking that I could take you out to a nice dinner."

He kept his eyes soft - a touch of affection and just enough seduction to make her blush and keep her intrigued.

"Candlelight. Fine wine..." He let his voice trail off so she could fill in the finer details of her perfect night.

She giggled quietly. "Mr. Secretary, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid there's no place like that around here. This is a tourist stop. The nearest town with a nice restaurant is fifty miles away."

Face sighed his disappointment. Clearly she deserved far more than what this small town had to offer. "Tell you what, I have a 1974 Sonoma Valley Cabernet back at my place. I know it's not the same as a night on the town, but I'd love to share it with you."

"Your place?" She eyed him curiously and perhaps a bit distrustful. "You know, I haven't seen you around before. Where are you staying?"

"Yes, well, I'm from out of town."

That much should have been obvious. There wasn't anyone else in this town that owned a seven hundred dollar suit, let alone walked around this dust berg in it. "I'm actually staying at the hotel over on the other side of the mission. Like I said, I have some unexpected down time, and since I don't really know anyone in this town and you have been the nicest person I've come across in the past few days, naturally, I thought of you when trying to figure out the best way to dispose of that bottle of wine."

"Oh. Well, I would, but..." She gave a pretty but apologetic smile. "But I don't drink."

He caught the unbelieving stare before it hit his face. If he had to spend much more time in this place than the few days he'd already been here, he'd be buying stock in Jose Cuervo. How had he managed to find the one person here under seventy who didn't want to escape it on any level?

"Well, then it will be the beverage of your choice."

_And you did already say you would except for the alcohol clause..._

"Well, there's really not much to _do _in a town like this."

Face took a deep breath. This was not supposed to be so much work. And if she was as naive as she appeared to be, the sex wasn't even going to be that good. Either way, he needed a distraction, and she was just going to have to do.

He leaned in over the counter, his hand lightly brushing along hers as he came in close. He lingered there a moment as her eyes widened, his lips just short of touching hers, just long enough for her to drink in those pheromones he was putting off. Then, slowly, he pressed his lips to hers, firm but soft, just enough to take her breath away - a promise of more to come. He felt her shock, then felt her relax and respond to the touch, and he gave her just a moment longer to make it very hard to forget just how good it could be. As he pulled back slowly, he stayed close, his voice husky and hot against her moist lips.

"I can think of something."

As he watched for her reaction, all she could manage was a wide-eyed, breathy, "Oh."

"What time do you get out of here?"

"Uh... um... In about, uh... twenty minutes?"

She was still staring at him in wide eyed surprise. He smiled. Perfect.

*X*X*X*

A week. It had been a full week since Jessica had heard from Face. Last she had seen of him was his retreating form out her back door, by her order. Maybe he was mad enough to be done with her. Good riddance, if that was the case. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she immediately recanted it. It wasn't that easy. She'd be a fool to even pretend that it was.

But even if he was mad at her, why not contact the kids? It was one thing not wanting her, but why turn away from Heather and James? He'd even blown off their end of the school year picnic - a tradition he'd been a part of since elementary school. Why dothat?

Better question, why was she spending her date with Jason worrying about Face? He made his position perfectly clear. She had nothing he wanted other than a place to lay his head when his latest starlet was wearing thin. Meanwhile, here was Jason, pouring all his time and energy into getting to know her and she was preoccupied with something she couldn't have. What kind of a horrible person did _that_?

But what if he was off with his team somewhere? What if he was hurt and that's why he hadn't contacted any of them? God, what if it was something like what had happened in Cambodia? Despite the warmth in Jason's car, Jessica found herself shivering slightly.

"Jess, are you okay?"

Jessica suddenly realized the car wasn't moving. Startled, she glanced around and saw that they were parked in her own driveway. "Oh. Goodness. Sorry, I'm... Yes, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" his voice was concerned. Watching her, he turned off the ignition. "You've been so distant tonight. Is it something I did?"

Jess sighed. Damn it. Jason he had been a perfect gentleman. He deserved better than this. "Oh, it's not you. You've been wonderful. Really."

He reached toward her, pushing her hair back behind her ear gently. "What's on your mind, hon?"

God, he was so nice about all of this. She would've been mortified if the tables were turned, and he'd been the one ignoring her all night. The least she owed him was an answer to his question. An explanation about what had ruined their evening.

"I'm sorry. I'm worried about a..."

Jessica faltered. About a what? A friend? He was both more and less than that. What was she even supposed to call him, anyways? It wasn't like she could use his name, and God only knew what name he was using at any given time.

"A friend of mine," she finally concluded with a forced smile. "I haven't heard from him in a while and I'm worried."

The concern in his eyes never dropped. "The same friend who had you all tied up in knots the last time we went out?"

Her eyes widened as he lowered his gaze for a moment. What had she _done _to this poor guy? All he had been was nice and kind and sweet and he was doing this even knowing that she was thinking about another guy?

"I didn't say anything," he continued quietly. "But it was pretty obvious."

"Jason, I am so sorry." What was wrong with her? No wonder she only hooked up with jerks. She was acting like one herself! "You've been so sweet. You shouldn't have to deal with my problems."

He laughed quietly. "No, no, Jess. It's okay."

It wasn't okay. She was in a full flush now, tripping over her words in her embarrassment. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's just... if you're so hung up on him, why on earth aren't you out with him tonight?"

She wasn't expecting that, for a number of reasons. The most obvious was the fact that he was opening himself up wide for rejection - something she'd _never _seen a man do, although she'd done it herself too many times to count. Add to that the fact that she was so transparent, or maybe the fact that he bothered to look. Not only that, when he saw her, he didn't just move on without any explanation. He was wanting to talk about it.

Oh, god, she didn't come close to deserving him.

"Jason, I want to be with you. I'm so -"

"Actually, it was a real question." He looked up at her. "I didn't imagine you'd be here if you didn't want to. But I want to understand why. Because you need to talk about it and... clearly, you don't have anyone else, or you wouldn't still be dwelling on it."

She suddenly found herself fighting against a tide of unexpected emotions. It was like Jason had suddenly pulled the bandage away and the wound she wanted to pretend wasn't there was now bleeding everywhere. Her eyes flooded with tears as memories of Las Vegas and her kitchen and the walk on the beach all played out in her mind at the same time.

"He doesn't want me," she assured him. "You have nothing to worry about. He made that perfectly clear."

Gentle fingers on her cheek, brushing away the tears that had somehow escaped, drew her eyes up to his. "I'm not worried about _him_," Jason whispered back. "I'm worried about _you_."

Suddenly, her arms were around him, holding him tight as she buried her face in his neck and sobbed. "It's not right! It's been so long and... I keep trying to move on, and I know someday I will. I _have _to! It has to get better. But I've been half in love with him since I met him. He doesn't want me and he never will but I just can't... I can't stop. I don't know how to stop."

Jason's expression was full of sympathy as he tipped her chin up. "I'm sure that's not it. How could anyone not want you?"

"Get to know me."

He laughed quietly. "Jess, don't say things like that. You know it's not true."

She closed her eyes again, unable to look at him. "God, Jason, I would have given anything to get him to see, to understand how much I wanted him and loved him. I've known for years he doesn't love me, that he can't love me. And you know what?" Some tiny little part of her was horrified when her voice broke a little. "I didn't even care if he couldn't love me. I would have taken anything he gave me and I would have been glad."

"Why?"

"I don't know." She pulled in closer to him on the bench seat of the Lincoln, and he put his arms around her. "What's wrong with me, Jason? Why doesn't he care? Why would I settle for that? And why would you settle for _me_, sitting here and crying on you over some asshole after you've been so... perfect."

"Well, you got one thing right in all of that."

She looked up, questioningly.

"He sounds like a real jackass. And I'm so sorry you've had to go through all of that."

"No." She sniffled, trying to pull it back together. "He was honest with me, I just didn't want to hear it. I wanted him so bad to think I was worth it. I wanted him to tell me I was what he needed. But he wouldn't lie to me."

God, the irony in that. _Face _wouldn't lie. He couldn't even give her _that_.

"And even though he told me to move on, to look somewhere else, that he would never be interested, I still wanted him to change. I just couldn't get it though my head that I would never even come close to being enough for him. He tells me to move on and find someone who does want me and I _still _hang on to this secret, fragment of hope that he's just confused. My god, how pathetic and needy is that? Jesus, no wonder he ran for the hills!"

She stared at the concerned look on Jason's face with newfound horror. "Why haven't _you _run for the hills?"

Jason smiled softly, and moved one of his hands to gently wipe away her tears, and the makeup she was sure had smeared all over her face by now. "I've had my share of heartbreak, too, hon."

Jessica found herself leaning into that touch, so gentle and accepting and understanding - all of the things she needed. She was staring at him when it hit her. It really was everything she needed, right here with her, wanting her, even though she was neurotic and used. And worse, she had just told him he _wasn't _her first choice. What had she done?

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry Jason."

"For what?"

"Here you are, offering me everything I'm crying about not being able to find, and I'm acting like a mad woman."

What was she thinking? Face was her past. If she wanted her future to include anything more than a life of loneliness she needed to start thinking about others. Like Jason - a true gentleman, who cared. Her hand rested against his.

"I'm sorry. How about we start again?"

_Please let him be braver then Face... Let him be willing to take a chance..._  
He smiled, hooking his fingers under her chin and holding her lips close to his for a moment. "Not again." He kissed her slowly, gently, and smiled knowingly at her as he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. "For the first time."

For just a second, she couldn't breathe. After everything she had said and done, he still wanted her. It was almost too good to be true. A real smile crossed her lips as she melted against him. And when he spoke, she knew. She saw it. Face was a dream best left in the past, but here in her arms was the future. He was willing to have her, and she would move heaven and earth to keep it that way.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Face sighed as he sat on the back porch of the mission, staring out at the barren nothingness of the Arizona wilderness as the sun set over the horizon.

"Hey, you wanna mosey on down to the canteen and get ourselves a drink?"

Face looked out of the corner of his eye as "Pathfinder" jumped off the back of the porch, skipping the two steps, and landed on the grass. "It's a mission, Murdock. As in missionaries. There's no canteen."

Murdock grinned wildly. "We could pretend. I'm sure they got something to drink around here."

Face bit back a comment about alcohol and drug interactions and looked away. At least Murdock had given up the irritating accent.

"BA find his van yet?"

"I don't know. Colonel thought it might be best if I stay outta BA's line of sight for a while."

"It's been two days," Face pointed out, equally amused and concerned.

"A _long _while."

Murdock took off the fur cap as he sat down on the step next to Face, running his fingers absently across the soft fur. "I guess trading it for Rosie wasn't exactly practical. I mean, we can't all ride Rosie at the same time and we gotta get back to LA somehow. But I really love that horse. She's like family. We just have this... special bond. Can't describe it."

Face lifted the can of Coke in his hand and took a drink.

"So you run out of ladies in this town already? I figured you already had a foot in the door with the girl from the post office. You must've bagged her at least once by now. Where is she tonight?"

Murdock had inferred all of that - and almost all correctly. Except for the assumption that Face was looking for more females in this god forsaken place, Murdock was right on the money. He wasn't with Monica tonight because he didn't want to be, not because he couldn't. Having sex with innocent, naive women like that who really meant nothing to him wasn't enjoyable; it was a headache. They were baffled and mystified by this thing called pleasure. And not really caring about them made the thrill of their radical, exciting discovery boring to watch. Besides, that kind of vulnerability made him want to run like hell. It was too close to love. On their part, of course. Not his.

"You ever been in love yet, Face?"

Face choked, damn near spitting Coca-Cola out his nose. A few seconds of coughing later, still trying to get the acid burn out of his sinuses, he turned to glare hard at Murdock, who apparently thought it was funny as hell.

"Why the hell would you ask me that?"

Murdock was beaming. The knowing gleam in his eye made Face uneasy. "I've seen you do a lot of things but I've never seen you in love."

"No, I know why you would ask me that. I'm wondering why _now_?"

"Geez Face." Murdock laughed. "Not like I'm asking you to give up classified information. I'm just asking if you ever been knock down, flat out, stomach churning in _love_."

Very gradually, the acid burning was subsiding, allowing Face to concentrate on the fact that Murdock was prodding again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"Sorry, Murdock." Face's polite smile was only skin deep. "That about as close to classified as it comes."

Another laugh, this one full and hearty. "Oh, come on, Face. Don't be like that. I got enough weirdness goin' on in my head right now without your contribution."

"Yes. I know." Face eyed him warily.

"So come on. Tell me. You know I'm gon' keep asking you now that I know there's actually something to tell."

Face sighed and stared down at the can in his hands. "There's nothing to tell."

"Sure there is."

Face said nothing. Better to keep silent.

"Alright since you're not going to answer that, let me rephrase the question. Do you _know _that you're in love?"

"I'm not in love."

"And I'm perfectly sane."

Face shot him a look that was void of amusement.

"Hate to tell you, Facey, but you're most definitely in love."

"No, I'm not. In fact, I could easily do without seeing her for another couple weeks if it meant she'd be over the hyper-emotionalism by then."

Murdock raised a brow. "Hyper-emotionalism?"

"We fight every time we talk."

"Ah, that." Murdock sounded entirely too pleased. "Glad she's finally making it obvious."

"Making what obvious?"

"Or not so obvious?" Amused, Murdock slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. "Facey, when are you gonna figure out you two are perfect for each other?"

Face rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't you start too."

"Start what?"

"Murdock, I am _not _her knight in shining armor. I can't even _be _there with her. And I don't want her getting arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive, that's for damn sure."

"Can't blame you for that. Getting thrown in the hoskow is not good for romance."

"That's not the point."

"I know. And you made your point. But we're not playing darts here, Facey." He made a sweeping gesture with his free hand. "We're talking about one of the great mysteries of life, not the rules to a board game."

"We're not talking. You're talking. I'm listening, because you have something of a captive audience as long as BA is still out there looking for his van."

"I'm talking. You're huffing. And I'm fine with a captive audience."

Face sighed, resigned. "Of course you are."

"She wants a knight in shining armor. What woman doesn't, deep down? But who's to say that's what she needs? And maybe what you want and need are two different things too."

Face managed to keep his groan to himself. "Murdock, pleasedon't try and psychoanalyze me."

"Aww heck, if I was psychoanalyzing you, I'd be charging you 120 dollars for a fifty minute hour. That's the going rate at the VA, you know."

Face glared down at the dusty ground. He didn't like where this conversation was going, where it had already gone. But Murdock clearly wasn't going to let it lie. With a heavy sigh, Face finally looked up, put his shoulders back, and met Murdock head on.

"Alright, let's say for a moment that you're right. Hypothetically, of course."

Murdock smiled. "Of course."

"So we're perfect for each other and then, what? I can't be a part of her life any more than she can be a part of mine. I can't drag her through all of..." He waved his hands around at their surroundings, the fact that they were _having _this conversation after so recently after being shot at, "this."

"Well hypothetically, I would point out that this hypothetical woman isn't being dragged anywhere. You two have been dancing around each other for seventeen years now. It's the world's longest, most convoluted courtship ever! Then, hypothetically, I might also mention that said woman, who may or may not exist, knew you when you were a hypothetical jackass and she still keeps coming back to you. Said woman served her time in hell, she's got her eyes wide open, hypothetically. And besides all that, you guys may have hypothetically enjoyed carnal knowledge of each other in a war zone. Being chased by MPs is tame in comparison."

"That was a war, Murdock. And it was a fling! No loss, no gain, no expectations on either side! Not the same!"

"A seventeen year fling?"

"What?" Face stared. "No. I haven't had her since Vietnam."

"Just 'cause you're not having sex doesn't mean you're not intimate."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Murdock shrugged. "Just sayin'."

Face sighed as he looked away again, shaking his head. "Murdock, even if I wanted a relationship with her - which I don't - it's too much to put her through. I don't want to be responsible for that."

"It's not like we're talking about bringing her along on missions, Face."

"No, it's not that. It's that she'd settle for something she doesn't want, and by the time she realizes it, she'll have wasted months, maybe years of her life when she could be looking for what she _does _want. I'd rather deal with _this _drama than that."

Murdock went still - oddly so - and pinned him with a stare. "Any time she spends with you is _not _a waste."

"Any time she spends with me, she's notlooking for what she _does_ want. And that puts her further and further behind on finding it."

"And just who made you judge, jury, and executioner over what she wants?"

Face was saved by the sound of tires on the gravel road. Familiar tires. Familiar engine. He looked up as the van rolled back into town - BA at the wheel - followed by the car that BA had driven out to retrieve the van. A very dejected Indian chief was in the driver's seat of the car.

Face gave a fake smile as he glanced back at Murdock, glad to be done with this conversation. "Well, Murdock. Looks like you get to live another day."

Murdock didn't smile. But his look changed to one that was clearly full of worry. "Not if he figures out what I was using to clean up after Rosie."

Face watched Murdock vanish in search of cover and finished the last of his Coke. Then he stood and headed toward the van. He needed to make a phone call to his answering service.

*X*X*X*

"Where the hell have you been?"

Ordinarily, James would leave these sorts of confrontations to someone else. But right now, he was too angry to step back and leave it to someone else. His stomach was already twisting, heart beating faster, and he felt sick. But he wasn't going to let that stop him.

"You missed our end of the school year picnic, Face. You've never done that. Not since we were in second grade. What is wrong with you?"

"I'm not in town right now," Face answered simply.

"Right, and a phone call is out of the question."

"I didn't realize I needed to report to you."

"Whatever."

It really wasn't like James to be so blunt. It didn't feel natural. But he was tired of all the games. Maybe trying to run a game was taking it out of him, or maybe he was really just that pissed that Face would blow them off like this.

"Are you going to ever show up again?"

"I was thinking about it. But I think it would be best if I avoided coming to the house."

"Why? Because you're afraid of Decker and his army of MPs? Or because you don't want to deal with Mom?"

"Let's just say that neither one of them make the atmosphere very appealing."

"No shit." Just a couple more things he had no control over but had to deal with the fallout from. Especially that ass Decker. "I've been having to deal with _both_ of them for a while now, and if I don't get away from it soon, I swear to god I'm going to -"

He caught himself just in time. That wasn't somewhere he was going and it wasn't going to get him what he wanted. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose James took a deep, calming breath.

"Look Face, I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass. But if you don't want to be bothered, just say it and I'll figure some other way to get away from the bullshit for a while."

It wasn't a threat. James was just sick to death of letting everyone else run his life. He was sixteen, for God's sake. It was time he had some say in what happened to him.

"My staying away has nothing to do with you."

James tried to ignore the strange feelings that twisted up in his gut. Face was the one adult who never lied to him, but he was wrong about this. His staying away may not have anything to do with him, but it sure as hell affected him. And it wasn't like he'd been real thrilled to see James the last couple of times he was here.

There was something almost like sincerity in Face's voice when he spoke again. "And I'm sorry I missed the picnic. Like I said, I've been out of town."

"Whatever, it was just a stupid picnic."

"I know. But you're right. I could've called."

"Well, you don't have to worry about running into Mom. Only reason she was there is 'cause you weren't and she brought Jason. She's out with him every night now."

"Good."

Face sounded genuinely happy - or maybe just relieved - by that. James scowled. Why the hell was that such a good thing?

"I'll make it up to you. Pick a restaurant and make the reservation for tomorrow night. Wherever you want to go. It's on me."

That was just what James had wanted. It had been the whole reason for the phone call. So why did it feel so... hollow?

"We've got a lot going on this weekend. How about next weekend?"

"That's fine. Whatever you guys want."

"There's some new place that Heather wants to go to. But they just opened last week. It might be hard to get a reservation."

"What's the name? I'll get us in."

"Blue Moon. Friday night? I have a Model UN meeting until six. So around seven would be good. We can meet you there."

"Alright. I'll be there. Have a good night, James."

"Yeah, you too."

He was staring at the phone as he hung up, and almost immediately heard Heather's voice from behind him.

"It worked."

It wasn't really a question. She could guess that much from what she'd heard of the conversation. But her tone was still concerned, in spite of it. James took a deep breath before he turned to face her.

"Yeah. He said he was out of town and didn't feel like dealing with the drama here." That wasn't exactly what he'd said, but it was what he meant. "He seemed happy that Jason has been keeping Mom occupied."

Heather sighed deeply as she ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back. "Jesus, Jamie, this better work. With the way mom's been acting, this could get _way_ out of hand."

Heather never lacked confidence. Seeing her doubting their plan had James running though the plan again, looking for how or where it could have gone off the rails. But it hadn't. Not yet, anyway. The only thing that they hadn't calculated was how strongly Face and Mom would react. They could still recover from that.

"Look, Heather, we just have to sell this dinner. Get Face to see what a douche bag Jason is and that Mom is completely gaga over him. As for Mom, we don't have to do anything. We _need _her to be making goo-goo eyes at Jason."

Heather sighed. "I hope you're right, braniac. Because if this doesn't work..."

She didn't finish. She didn't have to. James gave a tight smile as he hesitated a moment, then stepped forward to hug her. He didn't really know why. It just seemed like the natural thing to do.

"It'll work, Heather," he reassured her quietly. "It's gotta work."


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Face arrived at the restaurant with plenty of time to do a quick check for potential threats. It wouldn't be the first time Decker made a very public spectacle of himself, and even though they'd crossed paths several times, Face hadn't had enough of a chance to get a good reading on Fullbright to know what to expect of him. Other than that he wasn't the most patient man Face had ever met. A few months worth of failed attempts would break him of that expectation that things should always be his way, right away.

Heather was driving. The first thought in Face's mind as she stepped out of the car was that Jessica must be out on a date. Otherwise, there was no way in hell she would've passed inspection on her way out the door. The dress came to nowhere near mid-thigh, even when she straightened it. James, in a tasteful black suit and tie, was far more conservatively dressed.

"I thought this was a restaurant," Face said as he came closer. "Not a nightclub."

Heather shot him a look that screamed "pathetic adult doesn't get it," and put her hands on her hips.

"First you miss the picnic and now you're going to insult my dress? I'll have you know that I bought this dress while dodging your friend Colonel Decker, who's been on my ass like a _hemorrhoid_ waiting for you to show up."

James groaned and reached up to rub his forehead. "Geez, Heather, could you pick something a little _more _descriptive?"

"Well, you've seen him!"

"Yes. But I would prefer not to think of what he looks like in relation to your ass."

"Any chance he followed you?" Face interrupted.

"No. He leaves every couple hours to get coffee or something. Probably to take a piss, too, since he can't do that in his car." She smirked. "At least not comfortably."

"We left right after he did," James said.

"He leaves at night, too. After about ten. Though I think he's got someone else there then."

Decker had the patience of a saint to still be staking out Jessica's house. At least he'd learned something from two years of chasing them.

Face smiled as he gave one last glance around - confirming for himself that no one was watching them, then gestured to the front of the restaurant. "Shall we get out of the parking lot?"

Heather and James exchanged smiles. Then Heather turned and led the way.

*X*X*X*

Jessica didn't see Face until he was standing beside the table. More accurately, he was standing behind James, who was standing beside the table with a broad smile. "Mom, wow. I didn't know you'd be here!"

For the moment, all she could do was stare at him, jaw dropped, as Heather picked up. "That's such a coincidence!"

Heather had an arm through Face's. His hands were buried in the pockets of his slacks and while he looked very relaxed - the way he always did - his back was ramrod straight as he glanced from her to James to Jason, who seemed equally shocked. As the silence stretched uncomfortably, Face finally extended a hand and a perfect smile to Jason.

"I don't think we've met. Richard Dawson."

"Jason Carter."

Their eyes stayed locked a little too long as they shook hands. Face's smile was a little too fake and Jason barely even managed one. Jessica's heart was beating faster, and she still had no voice.

"I know!" Heather was beaming. This wasn't a good thing. "We should just sit here!"

Leave it to a sixteen-year-old to casually invite herself along where she wasn't wanted. Jessica needed coherent thought. Then she knew she'd be able to speak.

"Oh, really, I think Jason and your mom would prefer to be alone," Face interrupted her. His eyes never left Jason, and the very fake smile slipped a little.

Both teenagers were looking expectantly at Jason. Jess was still struggling for words. But Jason, ever the gentleman, would never tell them to take a hike. It simply wasn't polite.

"Oh, no, by all means. Join us."

She needed words. But they were simply not coming.

Face's smile - normally so well practiced - was noticeably forced. "Really, we don't want to intrude."

For once, Jessica was ridiculously glad that he had it together. But in spite of Face's protest, Heather smiled as she pulled out her chair.

"We're not intruding. We were invited."

James echoed Heather's as he took his own seat. "It'll be a regular family dinner."

Heather's oh-so-innocent expression hid the smugness that Jessica was sure would be there. What in the hell was she trying to pull this time? And why was James in on it? This wasn't his style. Heather attacked; James manipulated and led a person to think it was all their idea. Jessica's eyes flickered to Face. And, damn it, he did _both_.

She glared daggers at him as Jason gestured for him to sit as well, then caught the attention of the waiter. "Can we get a few more places set, please?"

And just like that, Jessica's romantic evening out with Jason now included Face and the kids. She set her jaw, keeping her anger to herself as she grabbed her wine glass and damn near drowned in it. She was going to lock Heather in a closet for the next ten years. And as for James... She didn't even know what to do about James.

Face was a bigger problem. He still could've objected. He could've overridden them both and done it so smoothly, no one was any the wiser that he'd orchestrated the whole thing. But he didn't. Instead, his eyes were on Jason again, and his smile grew friendlier as he sat down. He was not as forward as the kids were. But that damned smile and the fact that he wasn't protesting this forced her to wonder who was _really_ in charge here. Were all three of them ganging up on her?

Face _and_ the kids against her. Jesus, if that was the case, she was screwed.

But what would the point of that be? Heather hated her, so toying with her love life would be done just because. The only reason she could imagine James joining forces with Heather would be if he didn't like Jason. But he _did_. He'd been nothing but supportive when she'd started dating him. Her eyes narrowed on Face. That left him.

"So," James said brightly. "This is a nice place. Does it have good food?"

Face turned his smile briefly to James. "I thought you knew. You were the one who wanted to come here."

"I've read some reviews," he agreed. "But it's just not the same as getting a firsthand opinion from someone who knows."

Jason was watching Face. Something almost tangible passed between them. Jessica had seen that look before. When men wore it, it never meant anything good. Territorialism. They needed to hash it out.

_Jesus, Face, why now? Why the hell are you doing this to me?_

Jessica slid her hand under the table and put it on Jason's thigh. He had no competition. She hoped to God he knew that. After all of the bullshit Face had put her through, and the sudden realization, finally, that everything she was trying so hard to get from him was standing right in front of her in a man who was more than willing to give it... Jason wasn't as good looking as Face. He wasn't as smooth or suave. But he had something Face didn't - a heart. And Jess wouldn't trade that for the world.

Face looked up as the waiter returned with places for the newcomers. He took a second to glance at the wine bottle on the table before ordering another of a different vintage. He smiled at Jason by way of explanation as the man left.

"If you like that one," he nodded to the bottle, "you'll love this. Fallion, Napa Valley, 1976. Just sweet enough that you can taste the different flavors. Very smooth palate."

Jason smiled back, but it was hardly the self-assured grin Face wore - the one that grated on Jessica's nerves. He was Face. He knew all, he saw all. Jessica would bet a million dollars that the wine he suggested would be excellent. For some reason that annoyed her even more.

"I'm more of a scotch man myself," Jason answered. "So I'll take your word for it."

"Really?" Face was just as comfortable with discussing scotch as wine. "What brand?"

"Glenlivet 21. Though that can sometimes be hard to come by."

"Ah. I prefer Cameronbridge. Grain over Malt. Though I admit I'm not much for whiskey as a rule."

"Stands to reason."  
Jessica closed her eyes for a second, taking another sip, then pouring more. Now Jason was going to try and get into verbal sparring match with Face? The guy didn't stand a chance. Damn it, why was Face doing this? Jason was never going to beat him at a game of "one upsmanship" and she didn't _care_. Maybe it was tasteless on Jason's part to invite someone to the table just to try and show them up. But that wasn't really Jason's fault, was it? He was just being polite.

Jessica fought the urge to gulp down this next glass of wine as Face smiled across the table at her. She felt her anger seethe. How _dare _he come here to play "mine's bigger than yours" with her date.

The waiter returned and poured some of the new wine for him to taste. He nodded his approval. "Simply exquisite. Thank you."

Of course it was exquisite. It was his.

A moment later, his glass was full and he was reclining comfortably, eyes back on Jason again.

"So I've heard a lot about you, but I forget. What is it you do for a living?"

"Wedding consultant." Jason took a sip from his glass, his thumb rubbing Jessica's leg. "I haven't heard much of anything about you, Richard. Want to fill in the blanks?"

Face's smile broadened. "I'm an open book. What would you like to know?"

Jessica's head dropped a notch. Why couldn't Face just stop baiting him? He knew Jason didn't have a prayer. Why play with him? Why do this to _her_? He'd already made it perfectly clear he didn't give a damn about her. What the hell did he have to gain?

"Whatever you'd like to tell, I'd be interested to hear."

"Oh, look," Jess interrupted. "They have a band!"

"Well, I'm a financial advisor for a multi-billion dollar law firm that's centered in New York but we have a much smaller branch here in LA." Face smiled. "I prefer the weather here."

"Oh, I _love _this song!"

James leaned forward. "Mom, would you like to dance?"

No. James did not just say that.

"Good idea, hon. Go dance."

Oh, God, and Jason, too?

James smiled brilliantly - the same damn smile Face was giving her - and stood up, offering his hand. "What do you say?"

"We'll wait to order until you get back," Face said, adding his agreement to the mix.

"Have fun, honey."

Jason leaned in to give her a kiss as James took her hand and pulled her to her feet, leading her to the dance floor with a smile.

Damn it, she was going to kill them _all_.

With a fake smile on her face, she let him lead her. His smile was much brighter. It was that hundred watt mega smile - the one he used when he was feeling full of himself. She maneuvered them so that she could see the table, keeping all of them in her peripheral vision.

"Just what in the hell is going on here James Michael Summers?" she ground out as he took her hand.

"What do you mean, Mom?"

So innocent. It made her anger that much closer to the surface. But she was careful not to let that fake smile slip.

"Don't you _dare_ play cute with me, mister."

"I'm not playing, Mom," he said earnestly. "Me and Heather just wanted to have a nice dinner with Face. That's all. I didn't know this was where you were going out with Jason tonight."

"That's bullshit. And if you keep it up, you're going to be grounded for the next six months!"

"How was I supposed to know?"

"I left the name and the number for you."

"We made the reservations a week ago."

"James!"

The smile was gone. She'd had enough. What was with all these people trying to play her? Making her decisions for her? Her son standing there and bold-faced lying to her! Treating her like she was too stupid to figure it out.

James sighed, and dropped his head. "Mom, it's not like that."

"Not like what?"

He kept his head down as he looked back up at her with that innocent little kid look he must have somehow - genetically - inherited the ability to do.

"Please don't be mad, mom. We didn't mean anything by it, honest. We just..." He shrugged uncomfortably. "We were just worried about you."

She stared at him. He looked so... what? He was caught between boy and man. The boy in him wanted his mom to be happy, the man he was growing into thought he was responsible for her safety. All of the anger and frustration seemed to take a distant back seat at the sight of him looking so uncomfortable and vulnerable.

Damn him...

"James," she sighed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your night."

She couldn't be angry with him. What he did was wrong, but why he did it was understandable and heartbreaking. Wasn't she the one who wanted him to grow into the type of man who knew how to treat a woman? To treat them as equals, but never forget it was his reasonability to protect her? In his own way, that was just what he had done.

Her voice was low and serious as she continued, but it held no anger. "I know you worry about me, but you're not responsible for me, James. It's the other way around. It's my job to look after you."

"I know. But I still worry about you. Some of the guys you've dated have been real assholes, and I want to make sure he's not another one."

There was no thought as she brushed the hair out of his eyes, just like she had been doing for years. "Honey, I thought you liked Jason. Didn't he already pass your inspection?"

"Well, yeah, but you weren't this serious about him then."

She stared for a moment, caught off guard by that. "What makes you think I'm so serious?"

James shrugged.

She studied him quietly. However he knew what he knew, he was right. She _did _like Jason. And he _was _unlike the others. He was actually a good guy.

"James, please. Stop worrying about me and just try and survive being a teen, okay?"

James forced a smile as he looked back up at her, and nodded. "Okay, Mom. I'll try."


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

From the moment he'd approached the table, Face had known what this was about. Jessica was too serious about this one, and the kids were counting on him to intervene. The thing was, he had no intention of intervening.

He could feel it in the way Jason sized him up - the man considered him a threat. No surprise there. All he had to do was look at Face and James side by side and he'd know the relationship Face had once with Jessica. That was reason enough to be territorial. But the fact that he hadn't been surprised by the resemblance between Face and James said a lot. So did his willingness to invite Face to the table. It wasn't enough to acknowledge the threat. He wanted to _assess _it.

Face was fine with that. If it would put his mind - and Jessica's - at ease, he didn't mind being assessed. Besides, it would give him time to do his own assessment, and form an opinion of the guy the kids felt so threatened by. Maybe he could even convince them that Jason wasn't worth getting tied up in knots about.

That was how he'd noticed it. From the start, there was something wrong, something _off_. Jason responded to the verbal sparring match, and kept it going well enough. But there was something wrong with the sheer level of discomfort he showed. If he felt so threatened, why initiate the challenge to begin with? There was something else, too. Something even more disturbing that became clearer the longer Face watched him. It was in the dismissive way he smiled at Jessica. The way he ignored her as he engaged Face, instead of putting on the show for her. There was something about that that was wrong. He was posturing... but not for her.

When he'd finally ushered her off to the dance floor with James, in spite of the fact that she clearly didn't want to go, Face would've normally expected an abrupt change of tone - the ability to say things he couldn't say with his date present. Instead, nothing changed. He was just as uncomfortable. Was it because of Heather? That was a possibility. She could easily report to her mother if he said anything unimpressive or inappropriate while she was at the table. Unless Face could instigate.

What the hell; it wasn't like he had anything to lose.

But as he was pondering what kind of fight to pick, Heather suddenly took matters into her own hands. It took two seconds for her to spill her water down the front of her dress, five more for Face to realize from her reaction that she'd meant to do it, and another ten to figure out why. She was looking for attention from the waiter, who was good looking and remarkably young for such an upscale establishment. Young enough, she would think, to make a play on. The flirty "oh, clumsy me," routine was a classic, tried and true. And she pulled it off well. The waiter responded, offering her a towel, and she spent a moment dabbing at her chest while making pretty eyes at him. Face went back to his wine.

But as she giggled and stammered and tossed her hair this way and that, he kept an eye on her. And, he realized, so did Jason. Face's quick glance in the man's direction turned into a double take. Instantly, and without explanation, Face's hackles were raised. Something very wrong - something Face couldn't even identify right away - in the way a man thirty years her senior was staring at her. It was pure instinct to recognize another hunter, and a powerful reaction to identifying the man's prey. Jessica's date should _not _be looking at her daughter that way. And if _that _was the reason for his disinterest in Jessica, God help him.

The waiter left. Heather passed Face a smile as she stood, excusing herself to the restroom. Face nodded, and watched her leave, but his attention was on the way Jason was watching her. As one last ditch effort at the waiter's interest - he was watching her, too - she lost her grip on her clutch purse, and bent to pick it up. Out of the corner of his eye, Face saw the show she gave the waiter - and half the restaurant - in the short dress. Face's instinctive response was for how many ways Jessica could find to put her in a convent. But it was a thought in the back of his mind. In the forefront was his awareness of Jason, who shifting uncomfortably on the other side of the table. Clearly, he had thoughts that had nothing to do with a convent.

Armed, Face started carefully.

"They sure grow up fast."

"What?" Jason was so distracted, he was actually startled at the resumed conversation.

"Kids."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Sixteen years old." Face glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Really? Is that all she is?"

Lie. He knew that. Face could tell by his tone. A tone that had definitely changed. It hadn't changed when Jess left the table. It was when her _daughter_ had.

Face flashed Jason a smile. "Prettiest jail bait I've ever seen. You're going to have trouble with that one."

"Me? Trouble?"

Defensive. Panicked. Caught.

"I don't want anything with her."

Bad liar.

Face chuckled. "She's kind of part of the package when you're dating her mom."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess."

Relieved. And lying again. He'd thought of that, too. He'd thought long and hard about it. Face could tell by the way he squirmed. With a smile still in place, Face pushed aside the sudden, amused thought of how many ways he could kill the man sitting across from him before anyone would have a chance to stop him.

Lowering his eyes, Face took a sip of wine. "They didn't make them like that when I was sixteen. Good thing, too. I would've gotten into a lot more trouble."

"No." Jason took a gulp of his own wine. "No, they sure didn't."

Shifting. Focusing elsewhere. Face would lay down money that he had the beginnings of an erection he damn well knew he needed to get rid of before Jessica returned to this table.

"So. Wedding consultant, huh?"

"Yes." He was relieved to be on a safer topic.

Face smiled politely. "Is there good money in that?"

"Good enough."

"I've never actually had much of a conversation with someone in that line of work. What exactly is it you do?"

Jason cleared his throat and took another gulp of wine. He was starting to relax again. "Pretty much, I delegate. Everything falls into a category someone is in charge of. They get a time and date that things are expected to be done and report to me with any problems. For the most part everything runs smoothly."

"I see." Face took a sip of wine. "I imagine that can be rather stressful. The biggest day of two people's lives relying on your delegation."

"It has its moments. I'm sure in a fairly similar way to your line of work."

"Yes, I've had my share of death threats."

He paused and leaned back, glancing Jason over. The suit was expensive, but it was at least five years old and it didn't quite fit him right. Borrowed? Teeth were well cared for, but not too perfect. He hadn't grown up poor, nor rich. Haircut was cheap and uneven. He cut corners, assuming no one would notice. But Face was a master of smoke and mirrors.

"So how did you meet Jessica?"

"We met a coffee shop."

"Oh, that's right. She told me about that. Heather introduced you, didn't she?"

Jason chuckled lightly at that. "Yeah, you could say that." He shifted in the chair, just at the mention of her. "I've actually known Heather for quite a while."

"Really? How did you meet her?"

This was bound to be interesting.

"I picked her up hitchhiking. I was worried about her safety, especially with the way she came onto me when I was driving her home."

For a moment, he actually had Face caught off guard. That was one _hell _of a bold statement. "Oh, she did?"

"Yeah. I mean, don't tell her mom 'cause it's a little awkward. But she insisted we keep in touch and I suggested the coffee shop because it was... you know. Safe."

Face stared. Why say it? Why admit to it? This was an awkward conversation to have with anyone, let alone someone you barely knew who _wasn't _accusing you. Evaluating motives was, thankfully, something that came very naturally for Face. Jason was willing to suffer the awkwardness for the sake of home court advantage. He said it because he knew it was going to come out eventually, and he wanted to set the stage himself rather than let Heather do it. That way, he would be on the offense, not the defense. Next would come a disclaimer that Heather's version wouldn't match his, because she was a liar.

Jason shook his head as he took another sip of wine. "I think you're right about having my hands full with her. She's a wild one, that's for sure."

Face watched him with that fake smile he'd perfected years ago. "Wild one" might cover liar in Jason's book. Either that, or he just wasn't very _good _at covering his ass.

"How about you, how'd you come to know her?"

"Heather?" Face asked. "Or Jessica?"

Jason laughed. "Either one."

"Well, Jessica I met in Vietnam. I passed through her base a few times. We lost touch after the war, of course, and she actually found me, a couple years later. Seems we got a little closer than I specifically remember and I have some," he gestured loosely at the dance floor where James was still keeping his mother busy, "responsibilities as a result."

Jason sat still for a moment. He was surprised by that. Why the hell was he surprised by that? James looked just like him. It shouldn't have been a shock.

"They're your kids?"

Face just smiled.

"Well, that had to be a fun discussion."

Face chuckled. "It was a very surprising one. What about you? Kids?"

"No." Defensive. "I travel and put in a lot of hours at the office. Wouldn't be fair."

"Ever married?"

"No." Lie. Obvious.

"Ah, I thought Jessica said you were divorced. I must be getting my stories mixed up."

"You must be." Aggression. Caught and not threatened.

"So do you do a lot of yard work?"

"Excuse me?" Irritated. Tense. Jaw tightening.

Face shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Heather emerge from the restroom. The song was almost over. If he was going to have to push any buttons to finish his reading on this guy, now was the time to do it.

"Well, I was just wondering how a wedding consultant gets so many calluses on his hands."

"I lift weights." Leaning back, arms folded. Defensive and bold. "What the hell is this?"

"Not sure what you mean."

"You got something to say? Say it."

"Just want to make sure your intentions with Jessica are... honorable."

"Hey, if you're making a play for her you can do it on your own time."

"A play for her?"

Face laughed. He cast a quick glance to Heather, then to James and Jessica, gauging just how much time he had before any of them came close. The song had ended, and all three of them were headed in. But he had time. He pushed the wine glass aside and leaned forward on his arms, smiling wickedly as he lowered his voice.

"If I wanted to play with Jessica Summers, she wouldn't be at this restaurant right now drinking cheap wine and pretending to be high class with a man whose suit was tailored for someone else."

Jason's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden retaliation, but he let Face continue. In the few seconds he had left, Face spoke very quickly.

"She'd be in my bed right now, at this very minute. And you, my friend, are very lucky that I _don't _want to play. Because if I did, the very first thing I would do is take your name to the courthouse, where I have friends who'd be happy to look up public records. Like marriage licenses and - you'd better hope to God - your divorce decree. With your ex-wife's name on it. And I can only imagine the dirty little secrets she might tell me about why you two split. Like, perhaps, your interest in minors. All of that to say, I've got no intention of making a play on Jessica but let me make something perfectly clear to you while we're having this conversation."

Face dropped his voice, eyes dead cold as his fists tightened almost involuntarily on the table. "If I hear any rumor, true or not, that you have said even one inappropriate word to my sixteen-year-old daughter, I will castrate you. And _then _I will kill you. Slow."

Face sat back again, his smile fully in place again as Jason gaped. Heather reached the table and greeted them with a happy and enthusiastic, "What did I miss?"

Face rose and offered her a hand just as Jessica and James came closer. "Come on," he invited, ignoring Heather's surprise. She wouldn't argue and he knew it. "You and I need to talk."

Wide eyed and confused, she set her hand in his. Face cast one last smile at Jason, then at Jessica. Then he headed with Heather to the dance floor.

*X*X*X*

"Are you out of your mind?"

Heather's brow furrowed as she stepped in front of Face and put an arm around his shoulders. "I don't think so. But you're not the first person to ever ask me that so maybe I'm missing something."

Face was not smiling. He shook his head as he slipped his free arm behind her. "Don't be cute with me."

She sighed. "Is this about the waiter? Because I can -"

"It's about Jason."

She blinked. "What about Jason?"

He wasn't buying the innocent look. She might as well give it up right now. But there was no graceful way to do that.

"Let me ask you something, Heather. Spilling that water on your dress - did you do that to get the waiter's attention or so that I'd see the way Jason looked at you?"

Oh, hell. He wasn't supposed to figure _that_ out.

"I thought maybe..." _Think fast, Heather..._ "I didn't know for sure if I was blowing it out of proportion and I thought if you noticed it, too, then I -"

"Bullshit."

She stared at him. What the hell? There was nothing inherently wrong with that explanation!

"Okay..." she answered hesitantly. "So what do _you _think is going on here?"

"I think you and your brother got it in your heads that you were going to play Parent Trap with me and your mother. And you went out and hooked her up with the biggest slimebag you could find. Somebody who'd have a vested interest in wining and dining your mother and God help you if you encouraged this whole charade from hisside of it because your mother _threatens_ to put you in a convent but I will _do _it."

Heather looked away, jaw clenched. God damn it. He was not supposed to know all of this.

"You knew he'd sweet talk her every step of the way. You knew she'd fall head over heels for him. You _figured _that would make me jealous and I would come running after her saying 'Please don't go.' But when that didn't happen, you figured you'd give up the original plan and be very subtle in showing me just what a slimebag he was, just so that I could undo the mess you made before he goes and marries her and you end up living in the same house with him."

"I wouldn't let that happen," Heather said firmly, looking back up at Face with a definite glare.

"And just how would you _stop _it without telling your mother the truth? Because you and I both know you'd never do that. In fact, if I had to guess, I would say even James doesn't know how bad you screwed this up. Does he?"

She didn't answer. But she knew the silence was answer enough. Face stopped dancing, and leaned in towards her, lowering his voice almost to a growl. "I will save your ass. And I will take the fall for this. I'll be the bad guy. But God help you if she's past the point of caring what I have to say about it. And from the way she looks at him, she very well may be."

Without another word, Face stepped away from her and gestured for her to lead the way back to the table. The smile he always seemed to wear was gone. But she knew it would be back in place before they reached their seats. It had to be.

He was Face.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Face had never had a difficult time dancing smoothly. But Jessica was observing the school-dance rule about personal space; there was at least the width of a Bible between them.

"Jess, you are making this rather awkward, you know."

"_I'm _making this awkward? You show up out of the blue with my kids and crash my date, but I'm the one making this awkward? Unbelievable."

"I stand corrected. You're making it painfully obvious that you would rather walk over a bed of live coals than dance with me. But that's not awkward."

She ignored him. "You want to explain to me just what in the hell is going on here?"

"You may find this a little difficult to believe, but this was not my bright idea."

"No, of course not. That would be Heather's doing. Oh and let's not forget James. Because no one seems to think I am capable of running my own life."

Face had had enough of tripping over himself trying to keep a comfortable rhythm while holding her at arm's length. He pulled her closer, firmly enough to catch her off balance as he ordered, "Relax."

She glared at him, but didn't pull away. "You know. I hate it when Heather does this crap. And the fact that James joined in doesn't make me any happier. But I understand _why_ they do it. What I don't get is why you agreed to go along with it."

With an arm around her waist and her body pressed against him now, it was easy to lower his voice to a comfortable level. "Why do you think?"

"I have no idea, Face."

He sighed. "Jess, I'm not here to interfere with your date. My opinions of Jason, if you ever care to hear them, are best not discussed here."

"Right. You are the _completely_ innocent victim of the cunning of two sixteen-year-old kids." Her eyes shot over to the table the kids were sitting with a very uncomfortable Jason. She frowned deeply. "What the hell did you say to him? He looks like he's ready to bolt. I swear to God, Face, if you mess this up for me I will -"

"Tell me something, Jess."

She stopped talking, glared at him, and waited for him to continue.

"Do you love him?"

There was no hiding her frank shock at the question. She didn't even make an attempt. Instead she stared at him, her mouth opened in a stunned little "O" for a few seconds before she was able to stammer out, "What?"

"Do you love him?" Face asked again.

Jessica seemed startled. "I... What kind of a question is that?"

"An honest one."

She frowned as she studied him. "I... Of course. I mean..." She pulled it together suddenly, tucking all the thoughts and emotions safely underneath the blanket of anger. "Who the hell are you to ask me something like that? What do you know about love, or the way it's supposed to feel?"

"I don't," he said softly. "That's why I'm asking you."

"He's perfect, Face. He's what I waited a long time for. He's got a steady job, he's really nice, and he _cares _about me. Enough to listen to me when I talk. Which is more than I can say for you."

He nodded slowly. "I can't tell if there's more love for him or anger at me in that statement."

"I can't tell why it matters."

"Because 'steady job' and 'really nice' can change in a moment's notice. And I want to make sure you're safe."

"Safe?" She laughed at him. "Are you kidding me? Face, for the first time in... ever! For the first time _ever_ I can _really _talk to somebody and they listen and they care. Is that what's so unsafe about it? Or is it the fact that I have sex with him, too?"

"I couldn't care less who you have sex with, Jess."

"Clearly," she shot back. "You're the one who calls me in the middle of the night while your fling of the evening is sleeping. Fidelity has never been one of your strong points."

"Fidelity to whom?"

Her jaw set as she shook her head. "Just forget it, Face. I'm so far done with you, I don't even want to talk about it."

The song ended. She tried to pull away. But he didn't let her go. He wasn't done yet. Their eyes locked for a moment, a silent challenge, and she was the one to give in, stepping in close again.

He took a minute to gather his thoughts. He had a lot of information, and a lot of emotional cues to contend with. And that was to say nothing of the feelings _he _had about all of this - none of which he'd even taken the time to identify. He'd deal with all of that later.

"Tell me this, Jessica. Is there anything about him you _don't _like?"

"No."

"Nothing?"

She laughed mockingly. "See, this is why you have no business asking these questions. Because you have no idea what it feels like to be in love. You don't see the bad in somebody when you're in love with them."

He frowned. "No... you don't see the bad in somebody when you're _infatuated _with them. There's a very big difference." And one that he capitalized on regularly.

"Oh, so now you're telling _me _what love is? Well, by all means, speak and share your wisdom."

Face sighed, not willing to chase the bait. There was a point he'd been making and he didn't want to lose it.

"Did it ever occur to you that he wants something from you?"

"Everybody wants something. Even you."

Face raised a brow. "What is it you think I want?"

"You want to have me at your beckon call - a shoulder to cry on when your floozies let you down. But you want to always be able to keep plausible deniability."

"Plausible deniability?" He almost laughed at her. "Did you come up with that on your own?"

"Actually no. Jason did."

"Oh, he's definitely a credible source of information on me."

"You gave me all the information, not him. He just helped me sort through it."

"Well, then maybe you can help me." He was chasing the bait and he knew it. But he couldn't help it. He'd turn the conversation back to where it needed to go. But he wanted to see what her new opinion of him was now that Jason had had his say. "What plausible deniability did I need?"

She was completely confident in her answer. It was clear from the fire in her eyes. "You needed to be able to say that it had nothing to do with you needing me. That you could let me go just like that," she snapped her fingers, "and find your comfort elsewhere. Even though you know it's bullshit."

He took a moment to file that away. Defensive answers came readily, but he needed to get back on topic, not to escalate this conversation past the point of saving it.

"You know when I first realized what the kids were doing?"

Face raised a brow at another comment he hadn't been expecting.

"Weeks ago, I realized it," Jess continued defiantly. "I remember sitting there and crying and thinking how _pathetic _it was that I was actually glad. That maybe they could get your attention because I sure as hell couldn't. And I was a real bitch to Jason, too. Pining over you. And I still can't tell if it's that you're too stubborn or too stupid to realize what we could've had. But that offer's not on the table anymore. Because he helped me to realize a few things about you."

"All of which he has motives for making you believe."

"He didn't have to twist my arm, Face. All he had to do was decipher the writing on the wall. The writing _you _put there. And he was dead on, too. All of your telling me to move on... you could tell me that because you knew I wouldn't do it. You thought my relationship with Jason would be like my relationship with every other man - completely unfulfilling. You even made comments about my sexlife to prove your point!"

"What point?"

"That you didn't need me, but I needed you. And I needed you so much, that a... a conversation on the couch was more fulfilling than sex with anyone else."

He stared at her. "I never said that." The thought had never even crossed his mind.

"I am over you, Face," she said, her voice crisp and quiet. "Completely. Done. As in, _stop _calling me. You want to talk to Heather and James, that's your prerogative. But stay out of my affairs. You've made your choice and I made mine. I don't want you there anymore. I want to be happy with Jason. And you'd damn well better respect that."

Jesus Christ, he was going to kill Heather.

He sighed. He was getting nowhere by working up to the issue. Might as well just address it. "He's not your white knight, Jess."

"Face, you have no clue what I want in a man, let alone a white knight."

"I know that not too long ago, you were telling me that you didn't want to settle."

"I'm not settling," she said firmly. "You know what? I _do _love him. And he loves me."

"Do you love him because he's available, or because he's what you want?"

Indignant anger choked her for a moment. It took a few seconds for her to find words. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Someone who cares. And who doesn't want to see you settle for less than you deserve."

She stared at him, jaw dropped. She'd stopped dancing. She looked as startled as if he'd just slapped her. "I never thought I'd see the day. You actually _are _jealous."

"I am not jealous," he corrected. "I am concerned."

She shook her head, as if dumbfounded. "That is exactly what he said you'd say!"

"And that's why I'm concerned." Face kept his voice low as he watched her. She wouldn't react well to this, and he knew it. What he didn't know was how the emotion would come out. Anger? Hurt? Tears? "I'm concerned because he's been grooming you to make you reliant on him."

"Well, you would know all about that."

"Except his motives are not like mine." He stepped in close again. "You want to say I'm selfish and I'm using you, you go right ahead. You've got my motives all wrapped up in a nice little bow. So what are his motives?"

"Maybe, just _maybe_, a miracle happened and some guy realized I was worth caring about."

God, he hated doing this kind of emotional navigating. Heather was going to owe him for the rest of her life for this one.

"Jessica, your worth is not in question here. His motives are."

"You know what I think?" She didn't give him a chance to answer. "I think he's absolutely right. You're afraid. You keep giving me this big, long, self-serving spiel about what I'm looking for and what I want. But really, it's all about what _you _want. You want things to stay the same - no commitment, no responsibility, but to have me on a string, like a puppet you can play with any time you feel alone or afraid of the dark."

"What are his motives, Jess?"

"And you know what, Face?" She didn't even acknowledge him. "That's just too damn bad. I listened to every piece of advice you gave me, and I found someone. You had your chance, but you didn't have the guts to take it. That was your choice, so fucking deal with it. Because I have, and I'm not going to give up my shot at something because you can't deal with what you might be missing."

"What are his motives?"

"He is a good man, Face. He's got a lot going for him."

"If you don't know what his motives are, you'd better figure it out."

"And I am done playing your games, Face."

"Everybody has motives. Does he want to be in love? Does he want sex?"

"You know what? I'm not listening to this!"

She was laughing at him. The people around them were starting to notice the scene they were making.

"You want to convince yourself that you're saying this shit for my own good, you go right ahead. But I'm not buying it. You just can't stand the thought that I might actually be moving on. So you're trying to sabotage this for me."

"_Why _why would I do that?" He could hear the tension creeping into his own voice.

"That is a damngood question. You keep me hanging on and hanging on and telling me you don't want me but -"

"I _never _said that."

"You never said a _lot _of things, damn you. And you know what? It's too late now. You missed your chance and coming here all suave and dapper and oh-so-smart, acting like you know some big secret and trying to start trouble isn't going to change that."

God damn it.

"He doesn't want you, Jess. He wants Heather."

He had never seen her look as stunned as she did in that moment. Jaw on the floor, eyes wide, staring at him as if he'd just told her the sky was green. He braced himself for the anger that would follow the shock.

It came a second later, with her hand against the side of his face and a resounding crack that made several couples turn. Disapproving glances, deep frowns, and heavy debate over whether or not to get involved. He could feel the attention on him. And for the first time in a long time, he _hated _it.

He didn't look back at her. He just waited for her to walk away. But before she did, she stepped in closer, arms crossed over her chest as she lowered her voice to where only he could hear.

"Don't you ever say anything so desperate and manipulative to me again. In fact, don't you ever say another word to me. You go to hell, Face. And don't you ever come back."

She didn't give him a chance to answer, to protest, or to respond in any way. Not that he would have. As she turned and headed back to the table, he turned towards the door. She wouldn't have to ask him again. He wouldn't be coming back.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Face stood on the balcony of the beach house, leaning over the railing with a glass of wine hanging between his fingers. He'd gotten Murdock out of the hospital for the night (at his request; he said he was "going crazy"). Face wasn't sure where he'd disappeared to after dinner. He didn't really care. Face never really minded his company, but if he was honest, he knew he'd really rather be alone right now.

He sipped his wine slowly, staring out at the waves of the Pacific as they washed over the glistening sand. The sun had sunk just below the horizon, and a fog had settled over the beach. He saw it without looking, without processing. His mind was elsewhere.

_ "__You go to hell, Face. And don't you ever come back."_

It had been two days since he'd walked out of that restaurant, realizing only after he was halfway down the road that he hadn't even paid the tab. Not that it mattered. Money was the least of his concerns about that night. Besides, he had no qualms about sticking Jason with a five hundred dollar tab. The asshole deserved it.

_"__He's got a steady job, he's really nice, and he cares about me. Enough to listen to me when I talk. Which is more than I can say for you."_

The lines just kept repeating in his head, over and over again. He was very good at reading women - what they wanted, what they expected, what they felt at any given moment and how he could use that to his advantage. But navigating, or even identifying, what they felt on a deeper, intimate level - where emotions like love were kept - was like wandering blindly through a minefield. It was something he'd never been willing to do, because it would only leave the territory badly damaged and him in the hospital. Was that what she saw as "not listening"?

_"__I still can't tell if it's that you're too stubborn or too stupid to realize what we could've had."_

The figure moving up from the beach caught his eye. By the lanky frame and somewhat frantic gait, he could figure out who it was when he was still at some distance. The cap and jacket and khaki pants became more visible as he came closer, and Face took the opportunity to refill his wine before Murdock got to him. The captain was in a good mood, which probably meant he'd want to talk. Face didn't really want to talk. He was going to need another glass or two of this wine.

When he was close enough, Murdock climbed up the balcony by grabbing the post and scrabbling up the rail. "Hiya Face! Whatcha doing out here, _muchacho_?"

Face regarded him with mild interest. "There's stairs for that, you know."

Murdock smiled, eyes glittering. "Sure. But why use 'em when I can climb like that? Gotta think outside the box Faceman, or you start to get stale."

Face looked away, muttering a quiet, "Heaven forbid," under his breath.

Murdock chuckled. "You still ain't said what you're doing out here with your 'faraway' look on."

Face shrugged. "Nice night. No reason to stay inside."

He took another sip of wine and stood up straighter, glancing down the near empty beach. Only a few people were wandering up and down the waterfront. "I think if we ever get our names cleared and actually set down somewhere, I'm going to get a place like this."

"You always have liked the beach, Face. The beach always seems to make you kinda... I don't know... fuzzier. But then you go and say things like '_if_ we ever' and not 'when'we get our names cleared. What's up with that?"

Face took another sip from his wine and turned, leaning back against the railing. "You know as well as I do the chances of that ever happening are slim to none."

"The chances of us being alive right now were slim to none, and so far we're beating the odds."

Face shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye, he was watching Murdock's hand, tapping out a frantic rhythm on the weathered wood of the deck railing.

"If it happens, I won't argue. But I'm not going to hold my breath."

Murdock's tapping stopped abruptly and he fixed Face with a probing stare. Face could feel it like a blast of heat or cold - it was so near to a physical sensation.

"Haven't you figured it out yet, Face? We specialize in beating the odds. How many times have we survived the unsurvivable? How many crazy plans have we had go off the rails, only to end up on top? How many explosions and contraptions have we made? How many times should we have been goners? But we're still here, together. We are the million to one odds team!"

Murdock's hands were gesturing wildly. He was lost in his rambling, and Face tuned him out. He needed to talk - maybe just for the sake of talking. Face wouldn't interrupt him.

"I read this book about how since so many people had said 'it's a million to one shot, but it just might work,' and then it did that it caused a basic shift in the balance of the universe, so that in order for something off the wall to work, it had to be a million to one odds. We prove that's true! By being here and doing the stuff we do, stuff even _I_ know is crazy, we're the one in a million team."

His voice turned to background noise as he continued. Face's thoughts drifted again as he stared at an indiscriminate point on the deck floor. _"You want to have me at your beckon call - a shoulder to cry on when your floozies let you down. But you want to always be able to keep plausible deniability."_

What the hell did he care about plausible deniability? He'd understood - and employed - the concept from the time he was a small child. It was a way to stay out of trouble when he got caught. But he'd never done anything to her that he was afraid of her catching. He'd been very careful not to. What he'd said to Jason wasn't just smoke and mirrors; he could've had Jessica long ago. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to hurt her.

_"And I needed you so much, that a conversation on the couch was more fulfilling than sex with anyone else."_

"Right, Face?"

Face blinked, surprised, and glanced at Murdock, confused. Had he still been talking? "Huh?"

Murdock took off his cap and dropped it on the railing, then ran both hands through his hair, causing it to stick up in a hundred different directions. "You know, I get things confused inside the old noggin sometimes. There are entire months I can't remember and thoughts running through at speeds too fast to be safe. But in all that confusion and chaos in the mind of yours truly, I've never doubted we would be able to clear our names. I've always be able to find that thread and follow it back."

Face's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Murdock begin to pace. That wasn't a good sign. "You okay, Murdock? Something going on at the VA?"

"I live in a ten-by-twelve room in a psych ward, so feeling okay is kinda relative."

Face opened his mouth to reply, but Murdock didn't give him a chance.

"Face, the only people who matter to me know our name is clear. The pardon would be nice, but it will not change much for me. But it's gonna set you guys free. I'm in my locked room for a reason, but you guys, you should have your freedom. It was taken from you. You might have a bigger room than me," he gestured to the house, "but you're just as confined. I gotta believe that you'll be free someday."

Face gave a shrugging gesture with the glass in his hand. How the hell did Murdock get off on this tangent? "I'm not worried about it, Murdock. Like you said, we shouldn't even still be alive. If this goes on for the next ten years like it's been going, I'll be happy."

He honestly wasn't sure just how true that was. But he didn't care enough at the moment to think about it. Besides, whatever he could say to put Murdock's mind at ease, that was exactly what was coming out of his mouth.

It didn't put Murdock's mind at ease. As he flew into another long rant about justice and physics and Benjamin Franklin, Face looked away again. If he really just needed to talk, it didn't actually require Face to listen or actively participate. And Face really did have other things on his mind.

_"You want things to stay the same - no commitment, no responsibility, but to have me on a string, like a puppet you can play with any time you feel alone or afraid of the dark."_

One way or another, he was going to lose that. If not now, then later. That thought held an unexpected emotion to it that he didn't remember being there before. Not that he _loved _her. Not that he wanted a relationship with her. But what they had... of course it was valuable to him. In fact, it was more valuable to him than most anything else in his life. She was at the top of his priority list, right underneath the team. She was a safe place. She was... precious.

_ "A conversation on the couch was more fulfilling than sex with anyone else."_

He frowned as he considered that. It was an instinctive recoil, and in light of the current situation, he didn't fight it. He was definitely too close to her. It was better for both of them if he backed the hell off. He wouldn't have to do anything more to get Jason out of the picture; that problem would sort itself out. The lines had been drawn, and the man would be best to bow out gracefully. If he didn't, Jessica was well enough armed to handle it. She might have been furious to hear those words, but she wouldn't simply ignore them. She knew better than to ignore a possible threat to her daughter, whether she believed it or not. And if she looked for it, she'd see it just as clearly as he had.

"Hey Face, you got any buckets?"

Jolted out of his silent reverie, Face glanced at Murdock. Those fingers had started the frantic tempo again.

"Maybe some big spoons?"

Face raised a brow, wary of the request and the sudden bright and cheerful tone. "For what?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. Just let ol' Howlin' Mad do the thinking."

"Yeah, 'cause you're definitely thinking more clearly than me," Face answered warily.

Murdock's grin took up most of his face. He bounded into the house and Face listened as he ransacked the kitchen. He came back out to the deck with a mop bucket, a silver ice bucket, several large serving utensils, and what looked like an ice cream scoop. Face watched as he skipped, humming merrily, down the stairs and across the beach to where the sand was wet and hard.

Face sighed. They'd changed his medication again. Murdock was always a little weird, but this was a bit rambling and random even for him. This one was genuine; there was no need for him to be putting up a front here. That's why he usually needed to get out of the VA, after all - to drop the charade and relax for a day or two. Murdock didn't request an escape often. But when he did, he usually went off on his own to do whatever it was he considered fun. Face never asked. He'd get a phone call twice a day; Murdock was good about checking in. And whatever he did while he was away, it invariably made him feel better. He'd come back happy, refreshed. Often just in time to _stay _out of the hospital because Hannibal had another job lined up for them.

But this was different. This was the meds.

Face frowned as he considered that. It wasn't the first time Murdock had come to Face in order to detox from some medication or another. There was no convincing him that it was better for him to stay and let them _see_ how weird (depressed/unhappy/confused) he was getting. Face understood, on a deeper level than he cared to admit. It was instinct. When he felt like he wasn't right, wasn't himself, wasn't safe, he sought refuge from the team - in this case, Face. It was a safe place. Face understood the need for a safe place.

_ "You want__ to have me on a string, like a puppet you can play with any time you feel alone or afraid of the dark."_

She'd meant it as an insult. But how true was that? The fact of the matter was, he'd known for a long time that she was his safe place. He'd known for a long time that more often than not, he would rather be sitting on her couch with a bottle of cheap wine and a pizza than in a gorgeous hotel suite with a woman he barely knew. He didn't know _why _that was... but it was.

_ "A conversation on the couch was more fulfilling than sex with anyone else."_

He frowned. If that was the case, what did that mean? He knew what it meant for her; she was in love. But what did it mean if the same applied to him?

Face sighed deeply as he topped off his glass of wine, then started down the steps and across the sand towards Murdock. He stopped when he was standing over him. "What are you doing?" he asked patiently as he watched Murdock dig out a large pile of damp sand.

Still humming, Murdock used a pie server to form a wall of cold sand. "It's like the art therapy we do at the VA. Except they don't let us have real silverware. Or paint, since the last time when I dared Chuck to see if he could fit the whole tube in his mouth. How was I supposed to know he would actually swallow it? Course, they won't let me have glue either. Did kinda figure they would get mad when I glued the staff notes together. But I get bored."

"Art therapy?" Face asked as Murdock finally paused for a breath.

"It's your very own beach house, Faceman!" Murdock gestured toward his sand creation. "It can be the blueprint for the one you can build some day. How would you feel about a landing pad on the roof? Or maybe over there by the rear gates?"

Face smiled faintly, genuinely. Part of him didn't like seeing Murdock like this. Part of him was glad that he'd chosen to do it _here _instead of someplace more dangerous. "Landing pad on the roof, huh?"

Murdock didn't answer.

Face crouched down, holding his glass between his knees. "Murdock?" he asked seriously.

"Hmm?"

He waited for Murdock to look up. It took a minute. When he finally did, Face smiled. "I'm gonna go in. You stay out here as long as you want. But do you need anything?"

"I'm set. But you might want to see about getting a zoning variance for the Ferris wheel. I got a feeling the neighbors are gonna hate it."

Face smiled and put a hand on Murdock's shoulder as he rose. The phone was ringing in the house. He could hear it through the open door. It probably wasn't for him, but on the chance that it was, he walked a little faster than normal up to the house and up the steps just as the answering machine picked up.

"Face?"

Jessica. Well, hell, this couldn't be good. He set his glass on the counter as he walked to the phone.

"Face, are you there? God damn it, pick up the phone."

He grabbed the phone out of the cradle with one hand and shut off the machine with the other. "I'm here."

"I need a ride." Her voice was cold, angry. "I can't get a hold of James or Heather."

"They went out to a movie," Face said. "Everything okay?"

"I don't want to talk. I want a ride. Will you pick me up or not? Because I can call a cab."

_So why didn't you?_

"I can come get you. Where are you at?"

She gave the address, and rough directions, and he wrote it down before hanging up the phone. Then he turned and headed back out onto the deck. "Hey, Murdock?"

"Yes, oh great and wise facial one?"

"I've got to run for a bit. Friend of mine needs a ride. I'll probably be back, but if not, you'll either be able to reach me in the 'Vette or the number on the counter. Okay? Or call BA. His number's there too."

"Umm, yeah sure." He turned his eyes back down to his creation.

Face watched him for a minute, then reached into his pocket for his keys as he headed down the steps and to the front of the house.

"Hey Face?"

He paused, and looked back. Murdock was on his feet now, watching with a worried expression. "Be careful, okay?"

Face smiled, and nodded. Then he turned and headed for the car.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Anger didn't describe what she was feeling. She was absolutely _livid_. A light rain had started, and it was misting on her bare shoulders, her hair. Standing in the stairwell outside of the apartment complex, the nearest place she could go where she was out of the line of sight of that damned apartment, she didn't much care how wet she got. She'd sooner stand in the middle of the parking lot in a fucking monsoon than go back in there. Let the hair fall flat and the makeup run. What the hell did she care anyways?

Her hands were clenched into fists and shaking. The words racing in her head made her want to scream. All the things she should've said. All the things she _wished _she'd said. But like an idiot, she'd stood there silent. A complete moron. Not a damn thing to say for herself. Not a damn thing in her defense and nothing to the bastard who'd put her in that position. Stunned. Like she wasn't expecting it.

Furious now, the words tumbled out of her mouth although it was too late for them to mean anything. She wanted to scream them at the closed door of that apartment. She wanted to be _heard_, damn it! She wanted to go back and do it over again with her lines ready and _crucify _him with her tongue! But she couldn't. So while inside she was screaming, her voice was too low for anyone inside the complex to her.

"What the hell do you take me for? Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

She turned and hit the wall with the side of her fist, but it did little to alleviate her fury.

"Or did you just figure that I was so desperate, I wouldn't care!"

She would have preferred to throw something. But at the moment, she had nothing to throw. All she could do was pound the brick with a vengeance.

"Do I just have a sign on my forehead that says 'screw me over'?"

Her anger mounted with each word, each unanswered question, each blow against the wall. Inside of the apartment, Jason's barely-legal second girlfriend - the one who was so sure he was madly in love with her that she hadn't even let him get a word in edgewise - probably could hear her now. She didn't care. Let her hear.

"I've been with a lot of assholes. But _you _take the fucking cake!"

"Rough night, I take it."

She spun so fast she nearly fell over and glared at the man standing a few steps down from the landing she'd paused at. "What the fuck are you doing, Face?" she demanded. "I told you I needed a ride; that doesn't mean you have to get out of the fucking car and come _looking _for me."

"I heard you yelling. Figured I'd come make sure everything was okay."

She threw her shoulders back, tipped her head up, and shoved her way past him just as he made the last step onto the platform. "Everything is _fine_!"

He caught her arm as she passed, and her head swiveled so fast to look at him, her damp hair hit the side of his face. "You're not fine," he said flatly.

She growled audibly, jerking her arm out of his grasp. He let her go. "What the hell do you care?"

"Well, you _did _call me to come and get you," he reminded her. "And I _did _cut my evening short to race over from the other side of town and do that."

"Sorry I'm such a fucking inconvenience."

He studied her for a moment, saying nothing. She glared at him, _daring _him to make the next move. She was mad enough to turn her fury on just about anything. He made an appealing target.

"So I take it you figured out that my desperate and manipulative words were true."

Casual. Carefree. He had that "I told you so" half smile and an air of confidence that made her want to slap him again. Her anger _blazed_. "Fuck you!"

His smile grew. So did her anger.

The rain was falling harder - drops now instead of mist. His hands slipped into his pockets. "Well, _you _called _me_, so I'm assuming we can forget that part about me going to hell and you never wanting to see me again."

Was he baiting her? Was he _trying _to push her buttons? "Who the hell do you think you are?" she demanded, stunned by his audacity.

"The one with the car keys," he answered simply.

_Bastard!_

She took a step toward him and with both hands on his shoulders, shoved him hard. He barely staggered, and grabbed her wrists before she could pull away. Her eyes flashed as her fists tightened, but she couldn't break his grip.

"Let's not forget, Jess," he said quietly, his eyes darkening. "I'm also the only one you could call when you got yourself into this mess. Head over heels for yet another asshole who was so much better than me."

It was that passive aggressive calm anger - that shit she hated him for even more. She jerked at her arms, struggling to break his grip. But after several attempts, she'd gotten nowhere. He turned his hands, forcing her elbows to bend, bringing her closer to him.

"What the hell do you want?" she snarled. "A fucking thank you?"

"How about an apology?"

"Fuck you! Just because he's an asshole too doesn't make you any less of one. Now let _go _of me!"

"Or else what?" His cocky smile made the challenge that much more infuriating. "You'll scream?"

"I might."

"Go ahead." Her shoulders tightened, and she stood ramrod straight as he leaned forward to whisper into her ear. "I might just like to hear you scream."

She blinked, startled. For a moment, the anger was drowned by shock. Was he threatening her? All she could stammer out was a confused, "Huh?"

His teeth caught her earlobe, and she gasped, eyes widening as they raked sensitive flesh, just shy of painful. Holy hell, what was he doing? The anger came back in a rush. "Are you drunk? What the hell are you -"

Very suddenly, her back hit the wall, hands up on either side of her head. She hit so hard, it knocked the breath out of her lungs. She was staring at him, nose to nose, eyes to eyes, flame to flame. The look in his eyes was startling in its intensity, and she wasn't expecting the rush of heat that flowed through her as he pressed his body to hers. He was not drunk.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was slightly breathy, though she spat the words through gritted teeth. She refused to give any thought to the fact that she might actually _like _what he was doing. But why was he doing it? Where the hell was this coming from?

"What do you want me to do?"

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe."

"Let go of me."

She struggled, but he didn't let her go. Instead, he leaned forward, his cheek against hers so that she couldn't see that fire in his eyes. "You want to know what I'm thinking, Jess?" he whispered into her ear.

Her chest was heaving as she struggled to take in oxygen. She could feel the fire in her veins. She was furious. She was dangerous. And she was burning. Why was he doing this to her? This was downright cruel, even for Face.

"I want you to let me go."

"And I want to fuck you."

The shock that rippled through her was enough to stop all of her thoughts. _What _did he just say?

He pulled back slightly. His normally clear eyes seemed almost black as he stared at her through the darkness and the falling rain. "You tell me your fantasies," he whispered, his voice low and predatory. "And you know damn well that I'm the only guy you've ever met who can fill them."

She growled. "You narcissistic, cocky -"

"You've always known that," he interrupted. "And you still want me."

He ground his hips on hers until she could feel his erection. She shut her eyes hard, well aware of the warmth between her legs, her body's response to his merciless teasing. As he let go of her wrist with one hand and grabbed the back of her hair, she opened her eyes again to look at him.

"Tell me you don't want me," he dared her.

She set her jaw tightly. He was good at humiliating her, that was for damn sure. And he was downright cruel, making her remember the things she'd told him. Things she'd never thought he would use against her. Apparently, she'd been wrong.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she ground out, fighting back the angry tears.

"You're not hearing me, Jessica."

The kiss was bruising. Her eyes widened in shock as he forced his tongue past her lips, and used his other hand to grip her jaw, loosening it. She struggled to breathe as he invaded her mouth, submitting her to his will. She left her hands against the wall, where he'd put them, as she heaved in deep breaths through her nose.

He kissed her until he was finished, then pulled on her hair as he drew away, tipping her head back and exposing her throat. She gasped as she felt his teeth run all the way down the center of her throat, a threatening touch that didn't hurt, but so easily could.

"I want you," he growled. His eyes were on fire as she locked stares with him again. "Right here, right now, against this wall."

"Why?"

"I don't owe you an explanation. And even if I did, what difference does it make? You want to feel this. I want to make you feel it. It's just that simple."

"It's never been that simple before."

"Stop talking."

That feeling deep inside of her - that dangerous feeling that made her womb tighten and made her dizzy with lust - was suddenly the only thing she could think of. She didn't care why he was doing this. She didn't care how much it was going to hurt tomorrow. All she wanted, all she cared about, was that empty space between her legs that she wanted filled. Primal, uncivilized lust.

"I hate you," she hissed at him. "I hate that you can do this to me."

He was hard. She could feel it, through his slacks. It made her heart beat faster.

"Hate me all you want. But if you want to make this stop, you'd better tell me right now."

As his hands moved to her hips, holding her still, she brought her own hands up to his face and held onto him with her nails as she leaned forward and crushed her lips against his. He pushed her back into the corner, out of the light, out of the line of sight from the balconies of the apartments. Without a word, he pulled the strapless black dress down, all the way to her waist. No finesse. Hooking his fingers under her bra, he shoved it down as well, exposing her breasts to the cool night air.

His hands moved over her possessively. His mouth followed. He was rough, biting her nipples and the valley between her breasts. Her chest was heaving as she buried her fingers in his hair and clenched her fists. To that sensible part of her mind, this was horrifying. It was dark and animalistic and so, so _wrong _and she wanted it so badly it made her want to scream. Wanted _him - _the one person in the world that she _didn't _want to be intimate with.

This was going to hurt so badly tomorrow morning.  
That thought vanished as he dropped to his knees in front of her, pushing the dress up and hooking his fingers underneath her nylons. As he pulled them down, stripping her, he thrust his fingers inside of her so far and so fast it made her squeak in surprise.

"Face!"

He rubbed her wetness over her clit, pressing hard. "Quiet."

She had no chance to respond even if she'd wanted to. He rose up to his full height in a lithe movement she hadn't thought him capable of and claimed her mouth again. Releasing his hair, she tore at his shirt, nails raking over the light scars on his chest. She saw every one of them without even looking - the old and the new. Eyes locked with hers, his fingers curled around her wrist and he pushed her hand down to his straining erection.

"You like that?" he challenged as he rubbed her hand against him.

"Depends on if you can do anything with it that satisfies me."

Rain falling harder. Cold. She was on fire. Damn it! Her skin was burning, and the cold rain pelting her shoulders and face didn't seem to help in the least. She tipped her head back, lips parted, tasting the rain. Both of them were battling with the fastenings on his pants. She stepped out of her slip-on heels, and stumbled as she tried to get the nylons the rest of the way down her legs. Moving his hands to her hips, he held her steady. As her hand finally slid inside of his boxers, his lips parted for an audible gasp. She curled her fingers around his length, pulling firmly, and he groaned. Dark. Needful.

He pulled away only long enough to tear the nylons off of one leg, then lifted her leg around his waist as he stood again, bracing himself on the wall.

"Make it hurt, Face."

Her nails dug deep into his back, raking down slowly over wet skin and rigid muscles. He grabbed her other leg and pulled it up, hooking it around his waist as he pushed her hard against the wall. For a moment, she was disoriented by the feeling of him holding her up, of her back scraping on the rough brick. Thunder rumbled low overhead. Growling at them. Angry.

He pressed his lips to her ear as he tilted his hips, thrusting deep inside of her in one rough, fluid movement that nearly made her scream in pleasure and pain. He held her still, buried to the hilt, breathing hard against her neck. For just a second, he broke character, his voice soft and shuddering in her ear. "Tell me if it's too much."

She growled. "Damn it, Face, _fuck _me!"

He was rough with her, and it was exactly what she wanted. In the vicious, agonizing pleasure that followed, her body felt bruised, sore, and used. And the satisfaction was absolutely incredible. Sounds spilled out of her lips that should have horrified her, but didn't. Her head thrashed back and forth against the wall as he pounded into her. It was the fastest and easiest orgasm she'd ever had in her life.

She leaned into him and bit deep into his neck, tasting the sweat and rainwater and some indescribable essence that was just him. His pace near frantic, she cried in pain and pleasure as he drove into her one last time. The hot rush as he came inside of her made her eyes roll back, and for a moment all she was aware of was his low groan, and her name on his lips.

"Jesus, Jessica..."

Breathe.

She clung to him for a moment, just trying to breathe. There were no thoughts in her head. Nothing but beautiful white noise - pleasure and release, complete relaxation. How long had it been since she'd been with a man who could make her feel like this? Never, she realized. She'd never in her life felt so blank and peaceful after sex. She'd never felt so complete, so safe. Of course, in the total nothingness in her head, there wasn't even a memory to compare this to. This was... heaven.

Finally, he took a slight step back. She let her legs drop, but they were far too shaky to hold her up. She had to brace herself against the wall so she wouldn't fall.

"You okay?"

His voice, whispered in her ear, was soft and gentle. Still dizzy, she heard it through the relaxed bliss that had consumed all of her thoughts.

"Yes."

He turned his head and a few placed light, soft kisses on her neck. He was still trying to catch his breath. He was. _Face _was.

The fear hit her like a tidal wave - crashing through that bliss and shattering the peace. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. "Oh my God, Face."

"Don't," he whispered. His soft, gentle kisses didn't stop, up the side of her neck and along her jaw to that soft spot under her earlobe. He still didn't realize it. The tidal wave still hadn't hit him. But it was coming. She knew it was coming. "Just enjoy it. Just let it feel good."

But she couldn't. Now that her thoughts had returned, she was far too horrified to enjoy what she was feeling. "Face, did we just make a very big mistake?" She couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

His kisses didn't stop - the soft and gentle caress that only lovers shared.

"I have no idea," he finally admitted. "I didn't plan for this."


	21. Chapter Twenty

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

The drive was long. Silent. As he finally pulled to a stop in her driveway, putting the car into park, he glanced at her for the first time since he'd opened the passenger side door for her and watched her climb in.

"Thank you," she said quietly, shifting anxiously. "For uh... For the ride."

"No problem."

She hesitated a moment longer, then opened the door and stood without a word. His eyes followed her as she started up the walkway. He fidgeted. Damn it, this felt wrong. It felt like an ending. He'd been here before. Sitting in her driveway, watching her walk away...

He tapped the steering wheel, put his hand on the door handle. Didn't open it. Didn't move. Hands back on the steering wheel. She stepped into the house without looking back. Shut the door behind her. His fingers were tapping anxiously again.

What was he doing? How did she have this ability to make him feel like he was thirteen years old again - young and unsure and inexperienced. He didn't have a clue what to say to her; the long, uncomfortably quiet drive had proven that. He needed time to think. But the last thing he wanted right now was to go sit alone in a dark, empty room and think about how badly he'd just overstepped his boundaries. And how he was going to fix it.

He wasn't going to fix it. He couldn't fix it.

His hands gripped the steering wheel. The hell with this. He turned, grabbed the door handle, and pushed the door open. Eight years in the making, and for reasons unknown, he'd just brought their friendship to a screeching halt. He couldn't undo that and he didn't want to try. He was in over his head now and it didn't make much difference if the water was ten feet deep or a hundred. Either way, he could feel it every time he tried to breathe.

He stepped out of the car, closed the door, walked up the sidewalk to the door. Should he knock? He tried the handle. It was open. He paused. Damn it... He didn't know how to do this. He didn't know the lines and the moves and the role to play here. A minefield...

He let go of the door handle. He knocked. What was he supposed to say? An apology? A plea? A statement of intent? Did he even _know _his intent? He spent several long moments in silence, standing in the rain, shirt torn. Then the door opened. She was surprised to see him. But beneath the shock, her eyes were dark and needful, pained. His response was instant and instinctive. He forgot all the things he was supposed to say as he took two steps into the house, past the door, and slid an arm around her waist. Pulling her close to him, he claimed her mouth in a deep, slow kiss. There was no hesitation in her response. She slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders, all the way into his hair.

Eight years in the making, and he couldn't lose her.

Lost in her kiss, it was as if he felt something inside of him break. He didn't pull away as he kicked the door closed and pushed her back to the stairs, one slow step at a time. All the way up the steps, down the hall, and to her room. Standing in the center of a room he'd been in a hundred times before, he let his hands roam over her, exploring her as if it were the first time. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. He wanted her. _Needed _her. He had to be close to her. And yet there was no desperate, frantic drive to take her. He knew more surely than he ever had - standing this close to a woman - that he already had her.

He'd never felt this in his life.

They stood still, breathing hard, forehead to forehead with both their chins tipped down. His hands moved to her waist, just holding her as he waited. Long moments of silence, and neither of them said a word. But slowly, her hands moved to his shirt, untucking it from his pants and working up the remaining buttons. He shut his eyes, breathing in her scent deeply as he dropped his head forward and nuzzled her, cheek to cheek.

His shirt slid back and he felt warmth flow to every place her hands touched as they moved from his shoulders, down his arms, past his wrists. He let the shirt fall to the floor, not caring where or how it landed, and moved his hands behind her, looking for the zipper on her dress. He kissed her lips as he found it, probing gently, coaxing her open until his tongue finally slid alongside hers. As he lowered the zipper, the dress bunched and then fell, exposing her to his touch and, as he took a slight step back, to his eyes.

She was standing in the center of the room in nothing but black stilettos and a pair of panties. He'd seen her naked at least a dozen times before, but he had never really realized until that very moment how absolutely gorgeous she was. His gaze ran over her slowly, drinking in every beautiful detail - every curve, every soft place, every inch of her smooth, flushed skin.

He looked back up at her eyes, but said nothing. He didn't want to pollute the silence with meaningless words. She knew she was beautiful. He knew he'd never wanted anything in his life the way that he wanted her right now. He wanted to hold her, envelop her, close her inside of himself, into a place where nothing could ever pull them apart.

Holding his stare, she took a step forward. Hesitant fingers brushed his belt, and he ran his hands slowly up her arms as she unclasped it, then slowly unfastened the button on his slacks and drew the zipper down. The proximity of her hands to his shaft brought the blood rushing, and his eyes slid shut as he felt the tightening start. She pushed the slacks down, and he opened his eyes again to watch her as she lowered to her knees. She untied his shoes and removed them carefully, then raised his feet out of the slacks, one at a time.

He watched her as she slowly kissed her way back up his thigh to the bottom of his boxers, then over top of them all the way to where his erection was tenting them. Her hands slid along his length, through the fabric, and she leaned in to kiss him.

He moved a hand into her hair and pulled gently, just enough to get her attention. As she looked up at him, he offered his other hand down to her, and slowly drew her to her feet, into his embrace, back into his kiss. The floodgates were open, and emotion he hadn't even known he could feel was washing around him. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him as he dropped his head to her shoulder and kissed her warm, soft skin. He could feel her lips on him, returning the soft, gentle reassurance as their hands roamed everywhere, exploring each other as if they had never touched before. And maybe they hadn't. Everything he felt for her right now was as new and unfamiliar as it was frightening in its intensity.

Her lips against his ear sent a shiver of pleasure through him. Somehow, just listening to her breathing was probably the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced.

"Please, Face..."

At least, until he heard his name on her lips.

He shut his eyes, his hands moving over her possessively. He wanted to answer, wanted to ask her what she needed from him, what she wanted. Lord knew, at that moment, she could've asked him for anything and he would've given it. But for the first time in his entire life, he was completely and totally at a loss for words.

"Please don't hurt me."

His arms tightened around her, one hand sliding up into her hair as the other moved to the small of her back. He nuzzled against her, turning his head to kiss her cheek and along the line of her jaw up to her ear. "I would never hurt you," he swore, realizing as he said it that he meant those words with every fiber of his being.

She gave a muted sob, shuddering in his arms.

Her hands spread warmth everywhere she touched, and he shivered with pleasure that was so much deeper than nerves and synapses. He'd never felt so much all at once. He'd never felt it so deeply. He didn't rush. He could've stayed right there, just kissing and touching and exploring her, all night long. She was the one to finally take a step forward, guiding him back towards the bed.

He moved his hands to her cheeks, holding her face gently as he covered her lips with his. Once he'd tasted her, he couldn't pull away. Sliding one hand back into her hair, he drew her down with him as he lowered onto the bed slowly.

He turned, guiding her onto her back, and slid one arm under her neck in an embrace as he moved the other down her side to her hip. Her touch was like fire, and as she slipped her fingers beneath the elastic band of his boxers, he gasped. Delicate fingers wrapped gently around his shaft, and he shivered in spite of - maybe because of - the rush of heat.

"My god, Jessica..." The emotions found their way to words as he slowly broke the kiss. "I need you."

His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. He'd said those words a thousand times to a thousand women. Had he ever really known what they meant? He could smell her scent, and it was intoxicating. Her legs spread naturally, yielding. The pleasure - the _power - _of witnessing that simple act was more than a conquest.

Never letting his kisses close, he curled his fingers around the edge of her panties and lightly traced her soft, wet lips. Her hand was moving up and down his shaft slowly, and he matched her rhythm as he slowly pushed two fingers inside of her. He saw the pleasure as it flooded her eyes, just before they rolled back, and he smiled into the kiss.

He was nearly shaking with want. But as he stripped her panties down her legs, dropping them off the side of the bed, he found himself just staring, drinking in the sight of her spread out naked on the bed before him. He touched the inside of her thigh lightly and her legs parted wider, completely open and submitted. Trusting. Needing.

"Please..."

He moved up her body slowly, drawing in her scent as he lowered over top of her, watching her eyes. Her eyes said everything. Somehow, inexplicably, she was feeling everything he was right now. She brought her hands up slowly, finding his, and he braced himself on his elbows as she intertwined their fingers together.

"Say it," he whispered. Somehow, he knew he didn't have to explain. He knew she'd know. "I need to hear it."

Not want. Need. His breath caught in his chest as she drew her free hand up to the side of his face, stroking his cheek gently. Even that simple touch seared him. He'd never felt so completely, intimately connected to someone in his life. Their breath was as one; their touch was as one; their heartbeat was as one. And so was their desire.

"Make love to me, Face."

He'd never felt pleasure the way he felt it as he slid inside of her, gazes locked. She gasped softly, lips parting, never looking away as he rocked his hips slowly, changing the angle, finding all of the little spots that made her eyes flash, her breathing hitch. As she tightened down around him, his eyes finally slid closed involuntarily.

He moaned her name and dropped his head to kiss her again. Mouth to mouth, they both breathed harder and harder. The sudden realization of how close he was to climax caught him off guard, and he lowered his head to whisper into her ear. "Are you close?"

She only moaned.

Regaining some measure of control, he pressed deep inside of her once more, slid an arm beneath her, and turned onto his back, pulling her over him. She gasped in surprise, but he raised his head to claim her lips again before she could speak. Sliding his hands down to her hips, he held her as she moved her knees apart and pushed herself up from his chest.

He opened his eyes to watch her. She was impaled on him, rocking back and forth slowly, her hair swaying, head back, chest flushed and heaving. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. His hands cupped her breasts as she moved, almost elegantly, up and down. He pressed up when she pressed down, touching her core. The sounds coming from her were higher and higher, a beautiful song he'd never felt so deeply as he did in that moment.

His breath caught as she tightened around him, and he shut his eyes hard, biting into his lower lip. Her hands on his chest tightened into fists, nails scraping his flesh as she made a sound that might have been his name. It was all he could take. His entire body tensed, and he threw his head back as his hips jerked against her, heels digging into the mattress. Pleasure from every corner of his body flooded his mind. His cry was loud and unashamed, and through it he heard her call his name.

He was still trembling when she dropped forward, onto his chest, and he put one hand into her hair, holding her as he kissed her deeply. He couldn't see straight. He didn't try. Lips and tongue moving against her, he slowly felt the tension ease out of his abs, then his legs, then his shoulders, then his arms. By the time she broke away, he was immobilized by the warm relaxation - vulnerable and defenseless. He didn't care.

The last few kisses she left against his lips were feather light, soft and loving. Breathing still labored, she dropped her head, running her lips down along his neck - an intimate caress. He licked his lips, bringing moisture back to his mouth as she kissed along his collarbone, his shoulder. His fingers were still tangled in her hair, but he didn't guide her. He didn't have the energy even if he'd wanted to. And right now, all he wanted to do was lie still in her arms while she kissed and touched any part of him she wanted.

She owned all of him.

"Face..."

It didn't need a response. And it was more satisfying - erotic? - than he ever could've imagined. His own name on her lips - not whatever pseudonym he happened to be using at the moment. As if she knew him, and knew what he was feeling.

He opened his eyes slowly and stared up at the ceiling, dazed. He breathed deeply, using what little focus he had to tighten and release his grip in her hair, an acknowledgment of her. Really her. Really here. This was really happening. And he couldn't undo it now.

He dragged in a long, slow breath, but didn't trust his voice above a whisper. "I love you, Jessica."

He knew, with the remote part of his mind still capable of thought, that he was forever changed in that moment. With those simple words, his heart was branded, seared forever. If he ever lost her, he would die. If he ever hurt her, he would die in agony. Nothing mattered - nothing in the entire world - except for her. It was drastic, dangerous, even masochistic. But at the risk of self-destruction, he clung to her.

She moved up beside him slowly, and he shut his eyes as her fingers raked lightly through his hair. Her lips were warm against his ear as she nuzzled him gently. "I love you, too."

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, lost for words and still speaking in spite of it. "Everything I've put you through..."

She brought one hand up until her finger touched his lips. "Later," she whispered. "Enjoy this. Please. This is my gift to you."

She deserved the apology. She deserved more than that, too. But he had nothing more to offer. He'd always been good with words. But he had no words to describe the fact that right this very moment, he would cut his own heart out of his chest and hand it to her if she asked him to - whether for amends or simply for her amusement.

Very slowly, he turned to his side, gathering her in, pulling her against his chest. "I want you close," he whispered, by way of explanation as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

She laughed softly. God, that sound alone was enough to make him shudder with pleasure. He smiled as her lips caressed his neck, the warmth and moisture of her breath comforting and intimate.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

He drew a deep, slow breath as he closed his eyes, and felt the last of the tension slip away as he faded into a quiet, relaxing sleep.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

Jessica awoke to pleasure - soft and exciting sensations coaxing her from her sleep. Before her eyes had opened, there was a smile on her face, and she reached down beneath the blanket, burying her fingers in Face's hair. "Mmm... What are you doing?"

He didn't reply, and she didn't ask again. She knew what he was doing. She could feel it. Her lips parted as she drew in a deep, slow breath, arching her hips, pressing against his warm, wet mouth. Still drifting between awake and asleep, she breathed slow and deep as she felt his lips and teeth and tongue, teasing and exploring. He pulled away long before she reached climax, and she opened her eyes as he crawled up and over her, appearing from underneath the blankets.

"Good morning." His lips were warm and salty as they brushed hers.

She smiled. "Good morning, Face."

He kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself, and she moaned as he slid his arms underneath her and lifted, pulling her against him. Then he turned onto his back, drawing her over top of him. She held his shoulder with one hand while the other wandered - his hair, his neck, down the hard line of his jaw.

"You going to let me return the favor now?" she whispered with a smile.

"Mmm, I'd prefer not." His smile was just as mischievous. "But I definitely wouldn't mind going a few rounds with you if you think you're up to it."

She laughed as he leaned up to kiss and nip at her throat, light and teasing. "If you were trying to turn me on, Face, you've already done a damn good job of that."

He chuckled as he looked up at her, and she found herself just staring at him for a long moment. God, he was gorgeous. Blond hair, blue eyes, and absolutely beautiful. "This is weird," she suddenly realized.

"What is?"

"This. Us."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because." She could feel the blush starting. "You know all my secrets."

He smiled. "You know mine, too."

"Not as many."

"More than anyone else ever has."

"Really?"

He shrugged. But it was a yes.

For a moment, she was quiet. Her mind wandered lazily, half-coherently, over the events of the night before. Just the memory made something inside of her tingle. She smiled as she moved up again and drew his earlobe gently between her teeth. Her smile widened as he shivered noticeably.

"Was it everything you wanted?" she whispered. "Making love last night?"

He considered it quietly for a few moments. "Yes," he finally said. It was a simple answer, but incredibly sincere.

She smiled as she kissed his lips lightly. "Good."

As he watched her, his eyes softened, hands stroking all the way up and down her bare back. "Still think we might have made a mistake?"

She laughed quietly. "I never said that."

"Yes, you did." He raised a hand to push her hair back. "It's not what you meant, but it's what you said."

"You and I are going to need to work on our communication skills."

He smiled, stroking his fingers along the side of her face. "Let me put it this way. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Do what?" she asked, almost laughing at the question. She probably would've if he hadn't sounded so serious about it. "Love you? I've been trying for seventeen years not to do that."

"Yeah, but this is different."

"Why? Because you feel it too now?"

"Yes."

The simple, serious answer made her pause, and the smile fell from her face. She wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. He gave her a moment to think before he continued, still caressing gently.

"As long as I feel this, Jess, I'm not going anywhere. And that puts you in a bit of a... compromising position."

"I've been in a compromising position since the moment I met you."

"No, hear me out," he said quietly. "I need to know that you understand this."

She sighed, and nodded, bracing herself for the disclaimer.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I couldn't have this, Jess." He brought his fingers up under her chin, tracing her jaw lightly. "I'm not your white knight."

"Face, I'm not just the princess in the tower, either."

"I'm not saying that. But there's so much I can't give you."

"Like what?"

"The home, the family, the..." He shook his head. "The American dream in any fashion."

"You think I care about having a house in the suburbs and a husband to support me?" she asked, truly startled by the concept.

"No, it's not that. Hell, I can give you a house in the suburbs and supporting you wouldn't be hard if that's what you wanted."

"It's not."

"Anything that money can buy, I can get that. It's the other things." He sighed deeply, letting his hands drop to the mattress on either side of his head. "Jess, I'm a fugitive. I'm on the run. I can't come home for dinner, I can't always be with you at night. I can't... _be_ there. To talk to when you have a problem, to go through life with. If the heat is on, I may have to stay away and we may end up meeting each other in cheap hotels and places I never want to take you."

"I know that."

"No, Jess, I don't think you do. It's not going to get better. This is my life. I'll run until I can't run anymore and then one day I just won't come back. And you may never even have a grave to visit."

She frowned at that, but didn't interrupt him.

"Everything I do is dangerous. I dodge bullets on a daily basis and some of them _do _hit. It only takes one to hit something that can't be stitched back together again. It's a risk."

"I saw what happened to you just a few weeks ago, on that mission that took you to Cambodia. Remember? I know how dangerous it is."

"Sometimes we're gone for weeks. If I tell you where I go and why, you'll worry. If I don't tell you, you may never know where to recover my body."

She sighed. "Face, I don't want to talk about this. If it happens, it happens. I'll deal with it then. I'm willing to deal with it."

He studied her carefully, finally raising a hand to stroke her hair back from her face. "I love you, Jessica. I want you more than anything. But this really is too good to be true. That's not just a cliche. It's a fact. It takes one slip up and I'll never see you again. I'll never even have a chance to say good-bye. I don't want you to go through that."

"Face, will you please listen to me?"

She pressed her hand to his cheek, holding his eyes to hers as they stared at each other.

"I hear everything you're saying. But I knew all of that before last night."

"When you were questioning whether it was a mistake."

She chuckled. "Oh, geez, Face. You know, for somebody who's so good at reading people, you sure are dense sometimes."

It wasn't an accusation. Not like last time. But he noticed the wording all the same. His expression didn't change as he watched her quietly, waiting for an explanation.

"Because you came out of the blue with my biggest fantasy on a silver platter." She blushed at the memory. "I didn't know what to think about that."

"Neither did I. I really _didn't _plan that."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"I've been thinking for the last two days about what you said. About the conversation on the couch being so satisfying. I had no idea that it was, when I said that. But thinking about it... it was just right there in my mind."

The blush spread all the way down to her chest. "Satisfying isn't the word I would use."

"What word would you use?"

She looked away, then slowly drew her eyes back to his. He was watching her curiously, calm and relaxed. "Intimate?"

Her cheeks were burning at the memory of those things she'd said. They'd been embarrassing then, but the fact that they were irrelevant had made them easier to say. But now that he was here in her bed, and he knew those things about her...

His fingers trailed up to the side of her neck, stroking lightly. "Did it feel good? Last night?"

She swallowed hard, and nodded.

"Like you thought it would?"

She nodded again, and gave a tight smile. "Better."

"Then you shouldn't be embarrassed." He had all the confidence in the world, watching his fingers as they played over her shoulder down along her arm. He drew his eyes back up to hers as he smiled. "I'm not."

"That's because you're Face."

He laughed quietly. "Well, we're going to have to find a way to make you less embarrassed about what you want. Because I intend to have a lot more of those conversations now that they actually matter. And I don't think it'll take very long to wake you up."

"Wake me up?"

He smiled knowingly. "You've been repressed for a long time. And there's a whole lot of things you want to feel and games you want to play... and you just don't know it yet."

She blushed again, dropping her head. "I've never been with anyone I'd be comfortable playing games with. I mean, the guys I've been with, some of them wanted that sort of thing but it was always..."

She felt a deep frown cross her face as she remembered those games.

"Like Jason," she said with disgust. "And the cheerleading costume."

Face chuckled. Her eyes immediately locked on him to see if he was laughing at _her_. But it was hard to tell when he was lying there so relaxed, eyes closed and smiling.

"Jason was a pervert," Face answered. "Role playing should be fun for both sides."

"I don't think I like role playing."

"That's because you've never done it right."

She watched him skeptically, and he opened his eyes to look at her. There was no judgment in his eyes, only quiet interest.

"I'll show you," he promised. "Trust me. Jason was doing it wrong."

"Jason did a lot of things wrong," she said coldly, lowering her gaze as the anger came back. "And if I ever find out he laid a hand on Heather..."

"He didn't."

Face was so sure of that, Jessica had to look back at him, brow raised. "How do you know?"

"Because I never would've left him alive in that restaurant if he had. And I guarantee you he didn't do it after he found out how I felt about it."

She tipped her head, studying him curiously. "How did you know, anyways?"

"Takes one to know one. Predator, I mean. We just had a drastically different idea of appropriate prey."

"What does that mean?"

"It was in the way he looked at her."

Jessica's head bowed again, this time in shame. "How could I not see that?"

"Because you're not a predator."

His answer was so simple, it was as if he didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. But she knew he did. As his fingers came under her chin, tipping her gaze back up to his, he smiled softly.

"Not your fault, Jess. And she wasn't hurt. And he's gone. Let it go."

He slid his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her down for a slow, gentle kiss. It cleared her mind in ways she had never known something so simple as a kiss could do. God, she loved him...

As they slowly parted, she turned her head and blinked in surprise at the glowing red digits on the alarm clock. "My God, it's almost ten."

"Mmm. It's Saturday." He was kissing her throat, not the least bit deterred by her announcement. "You don't have anything to do today."

It sounded like a statement. It should've been a question. She laughed softly, trailing her fingertips along his jaw. "I suppose not. At least, not anything that can't wait."

"Mmm hmm..."

His hand moved over her slowly, exploring her lazily as he closed his eyes. Looking down at him, she traced his lips, his cheekbones. He looked so innocent, so harmless. There was a heady sense of power that came with knowing how deceiving the appearance was. She'd seen him, felt him, experienced him. And he was so much more than that shallow, pushover, playboy image he presented.

His hand moved down along her spine, from her neck all the way down, massaging and caressing. She smiled. He was so... erotic. Not just what he was doing to her - but his very _presence_ made heat gather between her thighs. Dropping her head to his neck, she trailed kisses along his soft skin. She loved the taste and smell of him. Everything about this moment seemed perfect.

Relaxed and quiet and content, they spent long moments exploring. Slipping her leg over his, she felt his erection growing, pressing to her thigh. She smiled, and let him push her onto her back. "What are we gonna tell the kids?" she mumbled, letting her thoughts wander as she relaxed into his rhythm - slow kisses, hips rocking on hers until she slowly brought a hand down to touch him.

"I'm not worried about it yet." He paused, and moaned softly as her fingertips touched his hot, satin-smooth flesh. His lips came to rest against her neck, one hand trailing circles on her stomach. "They don't need to know right away."

She smiled, tipping her head back to give him greater access. "They're gonna know just by the way I look at you. You might be able to hide that but I can't."

"Mmm."

He didn't seem the least bit concerned by her hypothetical dilemma. As his fingers slid down lower, his mouth followed, dragging soft, warm kisses over her skin. Her legs parted naturally as he drew the blanket aside and moved between them. Her hand slid into his hair as she watched him close his mouth over her sex. It only took a few seconds before the pleasure of his slow, deep stroking made the room spin, and she closed her eyes.

"God, Face, you're good at that..."

She could've sworn she heard him laugh.

She felt like she was spiraling, sensations circling wider and wider until it was all she was aware of. She was so lost in them, she didn't even hear the doorbell ring until she realized he'd paused, and had to figure out why. "The kids will get it," she whispered, tightening her fingers in his hair. "Please don't stop."

He hesitated for only a moment before he lowered again, dragging his tongue lightly across her clit. Her eyelids fluttered as she moaned his name. God, where did he learn to do that?

She heard the knock on the door. It made her groan. So close... Without thought, she yelled at the intruder. "Go away!"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the locked door swung back, nearly flying off its hinges as the frame cracked. Jessica was so startled she nearly screamed, grabbing blindly for blankets. There was no thought but white panic in her mind until she had the sheet up over her chest and had raised her eyes to see the man in green Army fatigues step through the door.


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

Blind instinct took over at the sound of the doorframe cracking, and Face was fast. As his head turned to assess the threat, he was moving upwards to cover Jess, scrambling to disengage from his compromising position.

"Jesus Christ!" The sound of James' voice registered, but he wouldn't be kicking in the door.

That honor belonged to Colonel Decker. Left land searching for the covers, right hand bracing his weight, Face's thoughts flashed at a million miles a second. Gun. Nope. Escape. Not a chance. The surge of adrenaline and panic landed him braced half-over Jessica who'd found the sheet for herself and pulled it up over her chest. He pulled it around his waist as he took stock of the situation, the threat.

At first glance, Decker was alone, armed, eyes locked on Face. A brief - but certainly noticeable - surprise made his eyes widen, but he neither stepped back nor looked away. It took a second for Crane to step up behind him, but that seemed to be all the entourage he had. Besides James, who was standing with his head turned away, covering his eyes.

Jessica was wide eyed, frantic. "What that _hell _do you think you're doing!" she screamed.

"Sorry, ma'am," Decker answered flatly, never taking his eyes away from Face. He pointed with the hand that was not holding his pistol. "I'm just here for him."

No shit.

It took an incredible amount of effort to get brain function started again. This was bad. He was defenseless here. More importantly, Jessica was defenseless. Not that Decker had any reason to harm Jessica - especially if he got what he wanted. Cooperation would lessen the chance of her - or James - getting caught in the crossfire. It would also land him in a ten-by-fifteen cell for the next twenty years...

"One hell of a compromising position to be in with your car right outside of a house you know I've been watching." Decker's voice was ice cold. "Are you _trying_ to get caught, Lieutenant?"

Face snapped his fingers. "Ah, I _knew _I'd forgotten something." The reaction was without thought: bury the panic under the calm exterior. It was all he knew to do under the circumstances, and it would buy him time. Time to think, which he desperately needed.

"Get your hands where I can see them."

Jessica looked like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi as Decker raised the gun that had been lowered out of surprise when he'd walked through the door. He wasn't pointing at her, but Jessica's reaction was nothing short of panic. Face watched her out of the corner of his eye as he moved his hands on top of the sheets. The wheels in his head where spinning, forming plans faster than the conscious mind could follow. A quick survey of where the rest of the team was. They were all in town, he knew that much. He'd left Murdock at the beach house. Jessica had the number. She could call for help.

"Put that thing away!"

Except that the panic in her voice suggested to him that she wasn't thinking straight, much less thinking ahead and logically.

"It's okay, Jessica," Face reassured her.

She turned and stared at him, wide-eyed and horrified. "Okay? How is it okay!"

Ignoring her panic, he glanced back at Decker. "I don't suppose you mind if I put some clothes on. Unless of course you want to drag me out of here like this." It was his best cordial tone. He could have been asking for reservations at his favorite restaurant.

Decker glared back at him. His eyes flickered briefly to the clothes on the floor, and he took a few slow steps toward them, never completely taking his eyes from Face. The slacks he picked up were still wet from the rain the night before. He motioned for Crane to cover Face while he checked the pockets. So much for the lock picks.

A door opened somewhere down the hallway. It was only a second later that Heather's voice - so loud it echoed in the room - hit his ears. "Who the _fucking _hell do you think you are!"

There was no panic in her voice, or the slightest hint of regard for the guns as she pushed past James and grabbed Crane's shoulder. Shoving him violently, she stepped between the gun and the bed. Jessica gasped audibly. Face only raised a brow. The girl had nerve, and it had caught them all off guard. He could use that to his advantage.

Crane's gun lowered slightly. Decker dropped the pants and took a step toward her. "Young lady, I will _strongly _advise you to stay out of this."

She glared daggers back at him. If she was at all surprised to see Face in bed with her mother, she didn't show it. She never even looked at them. "And I will strongly advise you to show me your warrant before I call the _real _cops!"

James, still hiding his eyes, held up a piece of paper. "It's right here."

Face drummed his fingers on top of the blankets with a tolerant grin, watching. With his index finger, he pointed in the direction of his pants. "Any chance I could have those when you're done?" he asked politely. The distraction didn't do him a damn bit of good without his pants.

Any reply was drowned out by the sound of Heather voice. "Well unless you're going to _shoot _me, maybe you want to get that fucking gun out of my face!"

She had no fear. She also had no sense. She actually _hit _the gun in Crane's hand, batting it aside. Face couldn't help the instinctive flinch. Everything changed if she got shot.

"Heather," he warned, seriously. "It's alright."

"Shut up, Face," she snapped, over her shoulder. "This is your fault!"

Face looked to Decker. He was watching Heather as closely as he was watching Face, not sure which of them was a bigger threat. "Pants?" Face said again, a little less patient. "Please?"

"Step aside, Ms. Summers." Decker was ignoring him. "That man is a fugitive. You're looking at a very lengthy prison sentence _yourself_ if you don't cooperate to the fullest extent possible."

Heather growled audibly. "Go to hell!"

Two steps, and she swung on Decker. Face's eyes widened. He almost laughed. God damn, that girl had brass balls. Startled, but no less prepared, Decker grabbed her arm, turned her around, and shoved her face first into the wall before she could regain her stance. Heather was screaming obscenities as he wretched her arms behind her and reached into his pocket for his handcuffs.

Well, that took care of Decker. He'd have his hands full with her. Unfortunately, Face still needed pants. He looked to Crane, who was watching with a startled expression. "Any chance _you _could toss me my pants?"

"Get him his pants, Captain," Decker ordered, over Heather's yelling.

"Let go of me you fucking bastard!" She was struggling so violently, Decker was having trouble getting the handcuffs on.

"You're arresting my _daughter_?" Jessica cried, dodging the pants as Crane tossed them onto the bed. She looked to Face, stunned and mortified and unsure of what to do. "Can he _do _that?"

Face shrugged. He was both impressed by Heather and horrified. Mostly he was concerned, because Decker really would arrest her. He couldn't _hold _her; his jurisdiction only went as far as military matters and they all knew that. But he could make her life a living hell for a while. Her, and Jessica.

He didn't look at her as he maneuvered the cold, still-wet pants under the blanket and pulled them up. He'd only half succeeded when Heather, frantic and vicious, writhed out of Decker's grip while he tried to clasp the second cuff, spun, and swung again. It ended with her on the floor, and Decker _much _more irritated as he put a knee into her back. Face paused only briefly - long enough to see James, who'd been watching in stunned silence, suddenly charge Decker.

"Get the hell off my sister!"

It was hard to tell who was most startled. The entire scene was chaos and screaming and Crane was the only one in any position to do anything to stop Face from bolting. Even he was distracted by the wrestling match on the floor. Face leaned into Jessica as he zipped up the slacks.

"Call the beach house for me, will you sweetheart?" he whispered into her ear.

She spun to face him, but didn't have a chance to speak before he kissed her cheek. "I love you." Then he was off the bed in a flying leap, knocking Crane over on his way out the door.

"Get your dirty fucking hands off me, you mother fucker!" Heather's screams were echoing all the way down the hall.

The sound of gunshot made him stop short, halfway down the steps. Fuck. That wasn't supposed to happen. He looked back, but Decker's furious yell, "That is enough!" alerted him that no one was being shot _at_. Decker was trying to regain control. He might have succeeded for a second or two of stunned silence. But then Heather was screaming again.

"What the hell are you thinking! Are you out of your goddamn mind? I'm gonna have you thrown in jail for that!"

Face jumped the last three steps and narrowly avoided a second shot down the stairwell. If there was any doubt that Decker would shoot him in the back, it was gone at that point. No keys for his car. Jessica's keys were in the kitchen but that would mean doubling back to the front of the house. He had a better chance out the back yard and over the hedge into the neighbor's yard. He could cut across yards without getting shot - maybe even without getting seen.

He bolted through the living room and hit the kitchen at top speed. Skidding on the tile in his bare feet, he slowed down long enough to haul open the back door just as another gunshot sounded behind him and glass - the living room window? - shattered.

Face stopped still with one hand on the open door and blinked in surprise at the half-dozen pistols held by a half-dozen MPs just outside the back door. The scene took a minute to register. "Fullbright," he greeted with a smile, slightly out of breath from the adrenaline-laced sprint from the bedroom. "What an unexpected surprise!"

There was chaos behind him, on the steps. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Crane struggling to pull Heather off of Decker. He succeeded, shoving her into the wall, but not before she managed to get a few hits on him. The sight was so absurd, it was hilarious. As Crane tried to get the other cuff around her wrist, she was struggling with everything she had. Her heel into his shin made him stumble, pushing her forward on reflex, and she fell down the last few steps.

With no small amount of amusement, Face wondered where James was.

Decker was through the living room and the kitchen in a few long, quick strides. He grabbed Face by the arm, spun him around, and slammed him into the wall. Face managed to turn his head just in time to avoid a broken nose, but the wind was knocked out of him by the force of the impact. All of the frustration Decker probably _wanted _to take out on Heather came straight at Face as he wretched his arms back so hard and so fast he could've dislocated them if Face hadn't turned with it.

Face was laughing. When had he started laughing? But he couldn't contain it. It was so absurd, so stupid for him to be laughing at a time like this. Decker was pissed and he _knew _he'd take the brunt of it. But it was completely and totally worth it to see the look on the colonel's face.

He contained his laughter as he felt the cuffs clamp so tight they immediately started to cut off his circulation. "You know, Decker, all this anger isn't healthy," he offered, helpfully. "You might want to look into yoga classes."

"Shut up, Peck!"

"Either that or self defense classes. I hear they're a wonderful way to relieve tension and it might actually give you an edge next time."

Decker pulled him back slightly just for the sake of shoving him back into the wall. Heather's screams were still echoing throughout the house. "You touch me again and it'll be the last thing you ever do!"

Face turned to look at her. She was struggling to get back to her feet while in handcuffs, doing all she could to avoid falling on her face as she held Crane back with a look intended to kill. Nice.

"So this is your idea of a quiet arrest?" Fullbright asked, his tone challenging as he stepped into the kitchen calmly, surveying the scene with some amusement. "No wonder they lost confidence in you."

"Well, General, it wasn't all his fault," Face defended, again fighting the urge to laugh. "It was just two military trained, armed men against a sixteen-year-old girl. And we all know that hell hath no fury..."

Decker turned Face roughly and shoved him, full force, into Fullbright. "Get him in the car! I'm taking the rest of them down to the local precinct."

Face fought for his footing. Fullbright raised a brow, glanced at the girl who'd just fallen halfway down the stairs - in handcuffs - and back at Decker, who was bleeding from his lip. "It would be one _hell _of a story to tell..."

"This is a violation of my civil rights! You had better take these goddamn things off of me right fucking now!"

"I hear the small blonde girls are the worst," Face mocked.

Heather turned her glare to Face. "Don't you fucking dare patronize me!"

Face laughed.

"Captain! Get her out of here!"

Crane hesitated.

Fullbright was looking Face up and down. He paused to look at the girl, then at Decker. "You think the local precinct is going to land in your favor, Decker?" He seemed to be finding this almost as amusing as Face. "I could've sworn I heard gunshot in here. Do we need to write out an incident report?"

"He didn't have a choice, General." Face watched the fury in Decker's eyes. Boy, Hannibal would just kill to see the look on his face right now... "I mean, look at her! She's at least a hundred pounds. How could you expect them to go up against that?"

"That's _enough_, Peck!"

"They were heroes," Face continued, undeterred. "Maybe you should recommend them for a medal. Do you have something for bravery in the face teenagers?"

Though glad for the capture, Fullbright was clearly more amused by the chaos. And probably what it would do to Decker's already disreputable military career. Face had never known the two of them to get along very well. Decker wiped the blood off of his lip with the back of his hand and glared daggers at Fullbright.

"I'm glad you all find this amusing," Decker growled. "But since you seem less than inclined to _move_," he grabbed Face's arm with a bruising grip, "I guess you can stand here in this kitchen while I take him back to the base!"

"I thought you had to get those civilians behind bars, Colonel."

"Well, whatever you do," Face interrupted. "Just keep me away from her."

He nodded in Heather's direction as Crane and two of Fullbright's MPs surrounded her. "Fuck you, Face!" she screamed back at him.

"Don't worry," Fullbright assured. "I'll take care of him."

He gestured at Face and the MPs approached, grabbing his arms. They took him to the front door, past Heather who was finally handcuffed, but no less volatile. And past Jessica, who was standing on the steps in her robe with a hand over her mouth and an overwhelmed, almost panicked, somewhat frightened _mess _of confusion in her eyes. Still no sign of James. He hoped he was alright. But it couldn't be too bad or Jessica wouldn't have left him. Who knew the kid had it in him to charge Decker like that? And Heather... well, she was just funny as hell.

The kids had some fire in them. Leave it to a couple of teenagers to push Decker halfway to insanity in five minutes or less. It was almost worth the arrest, just to see. Face had never been so proud in his life.


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

Murdock was standing on the beautiful oak island in the middle of the kitchen in Face's scammed beach house, wearing only his boxer shorts and holding a paint brush that was dripping day glow green onto the marble counter top. The kitchen itself was sporting a veritable garden of giant, colorful flowers in a multitude of shapes and types. The flowers were not contained to the walls; they were on every available surface including the floors, cabinets, counters, and sink. One particularly long vine with purple and pink five-petaled flowers wound its way from the floor, to the front of the stove, across the counter, up the wall and finally stopped in the middle of the custom floor-to-ceiling window.

Pleased with his canvas, Murdock had been just about to add a large green flower - who said flowers couldn't be green? - to the overhead light fixture when he saw the unfamiliar car through the flower-covered window. He raised a brow in amusement. The owners? Now _this _was going to be a fun conversation!

The kid who got out of the driver's seat was such a mirror image of kid-Face, Murdock thought for a moment he was hallucinating him. But then he remembered who he was. The attractive blonde woman who stepped out of the other side confirmed it. Jessica and James. From the looks on their faces, something was very wrong.

_Aw, Facey, what'd you do now?_

The boy led the way to the screen door and knocked before calling into the beach house, "Hello?"

With surprising accuracy, Murdock tossed the paint brush into the soapstone sink and vaulted off the island. As his bare feet hit the tile floor with a thump, he realized he'd knocked over the bottle of purple paint. There was a nice purple pond in the middle of the kitchen. He smiled. Pretty, but it needed some trees and flowers around it.

Realizing he was distracted, he refocused and trotted to the door. As he jerked on the door and held it open, he gestured for them to come in. "Come on, get in, get in. Hurry now. Don't wanna let the flies in."

Jessica stared at him for a long moment, apparently stunned. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. He'd said that in English right?

"Come on!"

James was just as wide eyed as he stepped inside and looked around at the artwork. "Wow... uh... what are you um..." He turned to Murdock, brows raised.

"Oh, my God," Jessica said covering her mouth with her hand. "_Please _tell me Face actually owns this house."

Murdock looked at her funny. Did Face own _any _of the houses he stayed in? "Beats me," Murdock answered her with a shrug. He smiled. "But I think whoever owns it is gonna be real surprised at some of the great home improvements I did!"

Jessica's eyes were wide with horror. "Yes. Surprised. Very."

Murdock whirled towards the table that was covered with half empty bottles of paint and haphazardly shoved them out of the way. "Let me clear you a space to sit down."

"No no no!" Jessica couldn't protest fast enough. One of the open bottles hit the floor and oozed red paint on the floor. Murdock smiled. Now he had a purple pond and a red one.

"Face isn't here right now, but he should be back soon. You're welcome to wait. Can I get you something to eat? Drink? A paint brush maybe?"

The big can of paint - the one normally used to paint walls - made a much bigger splash as it hit the floor. Jessica shrieked as it splashed pale yellow all over the walls and the floor, mixing with his ponds.

"Hey, look!" Murdock cried, pleased with the abstract blob. "Postmodern expressionism!"

James' mouth was hanging wide open and he made no effort to hide the fact that he was gaping. Jessica was backing towards the door. Exceedingly calm, she addressed her son with a forced, fake voice. "James, honey, let's go."

"No no, it's alright! Please don't leave!"

He held his hands up in front of him, as non-threatening as he could. Even with the wheels spinning out of control in his head, he could tell he was making her nervous. He wasn't sure why; it's not like daisies were threatening. But even so, he knew he had to correct it or they were going to run away. She was a friend of Face's. He would be upset if she took off because Murdock couldn't keep it together for a little bit.

With a deliberate effort, he slowed his speech down to an almost normal rate. "You stay. Please. I'll go. I'm sure Face will want to see you. He talks about you all the time."

_ Aw shit. Face will be pissed if he finds out you said that._

Murdock was retreating towards the deck. He could wait on the beach. Face really should be home soon. "You could try calling him if you want. The phone is over... um..." He saw it, and he frowned. "Actually, you might want to be careful with the phone. I think its paint is still wet."

Jessica stared at him for a moment longer, then looked at James. There was something in that look that made the hair on the back of Murdock's neck stand up. It was a feeling he had learned to trust. An instinctive _knowing _that something wasn't right.

_Shit, this is not a good time for trouble_.

James lowered his eyes but didn't speak. Jessica swallowed hard and took a deep, slow, calming breath. "We um... That's actually... That's why we're here."

She was halfway to the door, and she made no effort to come any closer to the table Murdock had "cleared" for them. But she wasn't retreating anymore.

"It's about Face."

Murdock took a breath. He had to get some control. This could be important. He ran his hand through his hair, realizing only afterwards that his palm was full of wet orange paint.

_Slow and steady. Come on, HM. Pull it together._

"What about Face?"

She stared at him for a long moment before finally speaking hesitantly. "Did you want to... um... put some clothes on?"

He stared. Clothes? "What for?" What did that have to do with Face?

"Face was arrested," James said flatly.

Murdock's eyes shot to the boy. Suddenly, there was one thought in his head, loud and strong above all the other ones that had been running rampant and wild for days now. Face was in trouble. Suddenly, the fact that he might not finish his masterpiece in time for dinner just didn't matter anymore.

"When, where, and by whom?" he asked, flat and calm as his fingers drummed rapidly on the kitchen island.

The kid put a hand up over his face, keeping his head down. "There's an army colonel who's been kind of harassing us lately. Decker."

_Shit._

"Face seemed to know exactly who he was."

_Shit, shit, shit_.

"He came to my house this morning with a bunch of MPs and a general," Jessica continued. "They arrested Face. _And _my daughter."

The phone. Ne needed the phone. He dashed over to it, not caring in the least as he smeared the paint all over his palm when he picked it up.

"How long ago?" he asked while dialing the number they all had committed to memory. His speech was coming quickly again and he was unable to keep his feet still as he waited for an answer to both the question on the ringing on the line.

James slunk over to the chair nearest the back door, not answering. Jessica glanced up at the clock. "About ten."

The phone rang several times before Hannibal picked up. "Jeremy's pizza delivery service, what can I-"

"Decker and Fullbright got Face," Murdock interrupted.

Hannibal hesitated only long enough to process the words. "Where are you?"

"His place. Jessica and her son are here. Daughter got arrested with Face."

Hannibal paused. "Which place would that be, exactly?"

"The big one. The one on the beach. It's..." He was fighting down a rising panic as he tried to remember.

_Come on, flyboy, think!_

"Malibu!" he shouted in relief as he found the information he needed.

"Alright. I'll be there in," Hannibal paused to check his watch, "twenty minutes. Keep Jessica there. We may need her."

"Right, Colonel." Murdock put the phone back in the cradle and headed straight for the doors to the deck, calling out to Jessica as he went. "Hannibal will be here in twenty minutes and he needs to talk to ya."

"Murdock!"

He stopped with his hand on the door and looked back at her wide eyed expression.

"You're not wearing any pants! You cannot go outside like that."

He stared at her. What did that have to do with anything? Besides, "I have to go out there 'cause that's where I left my pants. And I have to go get them or they'll be lonely and my legs will be cold."

He inclined his head and tapped the glass as he pointed to the clothes spread out over the railing of the deck. The three a.m. swim had worked to tire him out long enough so he could get a few hours of sleep. But he realized afterward that he really should have taken his pants off before he got in the ocean. Frankly, he was lucky he had remembered to take his jacket off.

Jessica was staring at him. Finally, she shook her head and covered her eyes with her hand. "My God, this is so nuts."

Murdock opened the door with a smile. "No, this isn't nuts. I'm nuts. That might be what's causing the confusion."

He strode onto the deck and quickly grabbed his clothing, then swept back into the house and headed towards the bathroom.

"I'm gettin' a shower," he announced. "There's food in the fridge, water in the tap, paint in the cans, TV in the living room, and a cow in the shed. Don't answer the phone if it rings. I'll be out before the colonel gets here."

*X*X*X*

It had taken Hannibal all of ten seconds to take stock of the situation when he walked in the door. There was paint everywhere. No way in hell Face would get this clean for the owners before they returned. But that's what he got for leaving Murdock alone when he was unstable.

Hannibal raised a brow, amused in spite of the seriousness of the situation, and glanced at Murdock. "Art therapy again, Captain?"

Murdock stopped pacing and gave him a dazzling smile. Clearly, he was relieved to see him. And clearly, he was proud of his creation.

"Well, I wanted to do something to improve the place, get the karma flowing. I really woulda liked to do something classic like clowns on velvet or dogs playing poker but there wasn't any velvet. Still, I think this is a good second. It gives the place a certain something, don'tcha think, Colonel?"

Hannibal smiled around his cigar as he gave the room a quick once over. "I like it. It's got pizzazz. Sort of a post-modern, impressionist style to it."

"Exactly!"

The two others in the room, Hannibal knew either from years ago or secondhand. Jessica was staring at him, but her son had already lowered his head again, chin in his hands as he sat on the sofa.

"Ms. Summers." He took a step toward her and held out a hand. "I believe we met some time ago, but re-introductions may be in order. I'm Hannibal Smith."

She sat frozen for a moment, blinking at his extended hand as if she couldn't comprehend what was expected. Was she in shock? Hannibal fought back the urge to chuckle as he wondered if it was Face's arrest or Murdock's mania that had done it.

As she finally shook hands with him, he turned to the boy next to her. Damn, did he look familiar. "And you must be James. We met too, but you were a lot shorter back then."

James didn't bother to force a smile. He just shook Hannibal's hand and put his head down again. Hannibal turned and took a few steps away, towards Murdock.

"I haven't been able to get a hold of BA yet, but I left a few messages. We should hear from him shortly. In the meantime, I'd like to hear the story of what happened to Face if anyone feels so inclined to share."

By anyone, he meant Jessica, and his eyes were on her as he turned to lean his shoulder on the wall. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before speaking, slow and steady.

"I called Face last night. I needed a ride. He picked me up and he took me home, and he stayed. It was about ten a.m. when Colonel Decker kicked the door in and then Heather..." Her voice wavered. "She tried to stop them and Decker pushed her down. He hit James and Face ran and..."

Hannibal watched her as she put her hands over her face and sobbed, unable for the moment to go on. She certainly wasn't holding it together very well. Alright. He would direct.

"How did he find out Face was there?"

He reached back and grabbed the box of Kleenex off of the counter, setting it on the coffee table within her reach. She reached for it immediately, and it was her son who answered, glaring daggers at the floor.

"That guy has been hanging around for _weeks_. He's come to the house, come to my school. Face left his car in the driveway and they came and knocked on the door with a warrant."

Hannibal frowned deeply. Left his car in the driveway? That was careless - not like him. He had to know they were being watched. They _all _knew Decker was hanging around again, in addition to General Fullbright, who was proving to be one hell of a nuisance in his own rite.

Hannibal's mind worked quickly to paint the scene, and got stuck on Heather. "Where's your daughter now?"

"He turned her over to LAPD. She's um... high spirited and hard to handle sometimes."

Hannibal laughed at that. "She must be, to get Decker to actually bring her in."

"They're waiting for a psych evaluation. They wouldn't let us do anything with her until then. They wouldn't even let us see..."

"Will she _pass _her psych eval?"

James directed his glare at Hannibal. "What the _hell _is that supposed to mean?"

"Decker doesn't go out of his way to arrest civilians. She must have made quite the impression."

James glared at him, but said nothing.

"Well, if it helps," Murdock said brightly. "Anyone can pass a psych eval. They're really easy."

Jessica only cried harder. Hannibal sighed.

"You said Face ran," he redirected. "Do we know for a fact that Decker _caught _him?"

"Yes. In my kitchen." She held the Kleenex over her eyes. "She just reacted... so badly... very badly... She screamed and swung at him and he, he pushed her but he couldn't get the handcuffs on her and he knocked her down and then... then he..."

Hannibal sighed. She definitely wasn't holding it together very well. And the last thing he wanted was to push her over the edge. He took a few steps toward her, and tested the coffee table before he sat on the edge of it, facing her.

"Ms. Summers, your daughter will be just fine. Nobody is going to go through the hassle of prosecuting her when they have what they want."

James stood. Without looking at any of them, he walked out to the deck and headed down the steps to the beach.

"Did they talk at all about their plans? Where they were taking him?"

"Decker took Heather to the LAPD precinct and the general took Face to the Air Force Base. They had Security Forces with them in addition to the MPs."

Hannibal gave her a reassuring smile, and set a hand on her wrist. "Thank you Ms. Summers. And don't worry. We'll get Face back."

It was all he afforded her. No explanations, no reasons, no effort to convince her. He had nothing else to offer if he wanted to. He stood, and without looking around, headed for the back deck. "Captain?"

Hannibal gestured for Murdock to follow him as he slid the door open, leaving Jessica to pull herself together. He had other things to think about right now.


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

Murdock's hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and head full of swirling thoughts. Once the door was safely closed behind them, Hannibal leaned on the rail, looking out at the glistening sand on the beach.

"Murdock?"

"Yeah, Colonel?"

"Why did you paint flowers all over the kitchen of Face's rental property?" His tone was completely serious, almost chastising, but not angry.

Murdock shifted a bit uncomfortably under the careful scrutiny. He walked to the edge of the deck and leaned on the railing. Looking out at the waves and feeling the sun on his neck, he tried to untangle the mess of thoughts and feelings so that he could find the right answer for that. Not that there was a wrong answer. He wasn't going to lie. He'd never lie to Hannibal about important things, and anything Hannibal asked while Face was in prison was an important thing. That meant he needed to find the truth that was hidden among the tangents and random thoughts that were taking up more than their fair share of space.

He was aware that he was drumming his fingers. He listened to the beat for a moment, then pushed himself away from the railing and started to pace slowly. He wasn't ready to look Hannibal in the eye. He felt ashamed. Not for the kitchen; the kitchen turned out great. But for something deeper. For the fact that Hannibal had to be worried about him in the first place - that he had to use that tone.

"They tried a new medication and it's not doin' so well. Or, I guess, I'm not doin' so well on it. I been havin' trouble sleeping and racing thoughts and feeling like things were closin' in. I couldn't stay at the VA 'cause I started seeing... No, not really seeing things 'cause that's different. Just started imagining things. Scary things. So I called Face and he sprung me. Just for a few nights, ya know?"

Murdock smiled at the memory of the drive up the Pacific coast highway - the first thing they'd done once the hospital was behind them. The sun on his skin had felt almost as good as the wind in his hair with the top of Face's car open. And the wide open sky was just beautiful. Relieved and safe, Murdock had been truly happy in that moment.

"How long since you've taken it?"

"Taken what?" He'd forgotten what they were talking about.

"The medication."

"Oh. I dunno. I took it a couple days before I started noticing it and then I stopped 'cause I got scared. They hadn't noticed it yet though. I had Face spring me 'cause I figured it was about time they'd start noticing. In my blood draws, you know? But it's still there, messin' with me."

He paused for a moment. He was getting too emotional. The thoughts were blending. He took his cap off long enough to run his hand through his hair.

"I knew I wasn't right and I didn't wanna be alone in the VA if I got worse. There was all the different things going on in here," he tapped his temple with his two fingers, "and I couldn't stop them and I couldn't sleep and..."

He was aware he was pacing faster and speaking faster. He stopped, closed and eyes counted to ten. Hannibal didn't interrupt, just let him gather his thoughts back together again.

"I just need to sleep. But I couldn't stop thinking. I was too awake, aware. I tried jogging and swimming and even warm milk. Which is disgusting. Why would people...?" Sensing a tangent, Murdock caught himself he shook his head. "Sorry. No, that's not important. What's important is I had a bad feeling about Face goin' off, but I thought it was the meds so I ignored it and wandered around looking for something to stop the thoughts so I could sleep and found the stash of paints in the garage."

He stopped pacing and looked at Hannibal, who was still watching him calmly, with no visible reaction.

"It's like...you ever see whirlwind? Its like that but instead of dust and dirt it's all these thoughts and feelings and memories - even the ones you don't want - just bouncing off the walls on the inside of your head. And suddenly, in the whirlwind, I knew that if I painted the kitchen it would be better. It would stop the things and keep the other stuff away. And it did. So it's good."

Hannibal was still watching him. He let the silence stretch for a moment, but when Murdock didn't continue, he finally glanced away, studying his cigar. "They'll take Face to that Air Force base for holding, but they're not going to keep him there long. If we don't get him before they move him, we might not get another chance."

"How long do you think we have?"

"I don't know." With a deep sigh, Hannibal looked at him again. "Before I can form a plan, I need to know what I have to work with, Captain."

Murdock felt his stomach sink. The question wasn't stated; it was implied. But Murdock knew what he was asking. And he knew that he expected complete honesty. Murdock wanted to say he was fine, that they needed to get Face. But that wasn't the truth. And he knew it.

"I can't fly, Colonel."

"Can you drive?"

"Not if we leave right now, no. I don't think so."

He kept the emotion out of his voice. He would have to deal with those feelings later - knowing he was letting Face down. But he'd only slept an hour or two here and there for... well... since they'd come back from the Mission de la Paz. It had been over a week now.

"Or, I mean, I can do it but... I won't be safe. But I'm getting tired now and that's a good sign. If I can just get a few hours, I should be good to go."

Hannibal nodded. "Do what you have to do, Captain. I'll wake you if anything changes."

Murdock dropped his eyes and nodded, even though Hannibal didn't look up at him.

"Yes, Sir."

As he moved to the door, Murdock suddenly realized he wasn't smiling anymore. Suddenly, he felt very old, tired and worn. This wasn't new; it had happened before. When the mania ended and his body demanded the sleep it had been denied for so long. It was good news in a way; it meant he was most likely going to get to sleep. And right now, sleep was the only thing he could do to help Face. He was useless without it.

"Captain?"

Murdock paused at the door and looked back at Hannibal's unreadable expression.

"If you need anything, you let me know."

It was somewhere between a question and an order. Murdock smiled faintly. Hannibal was never one to coddle. But he meant what he said. He cared.

"I might need a camera," Murdock answered with a tired but impish grin. "I think it would be nice to capture Face's expression when he sees the upgrade to the kitchen."

Hannibal smiled as he turned away again, shaking his head.

*X*X*X*

Fullbright was more than pleased to parade Face in front of the Security Forces soldiers at the Los Angeles Air Force Base. Face had a feeling he'd be even more pleased once he got him in front of someone who actually knew and cared about the fifteen year manhunt. Namely, in front of Fullbright's own superiors. The most he got here was an amused look from the USAF Security Forces soldiers.

"Hey, uh, don't I get a phone call in here somewhere?"

"Shut up, Peck. Anyone who needs to know where you're going can hear about it on the evening news."

Face smiled. He was still horribly amused by the proceedings of his capture. More amused than he should be, probably, given the circumstances. He really was in a hell of a lot of trouble. He was on a military installation, heading for the stockade. This wasn't the one room jailhouse of a back country hick town in rural Oklahoma. Hannibal was going to have a hell of a time getting him out of here, and anything he could do to assist in that was not only helpful, it was necessary.

But somehow, all he could really do was laugh.

"We're bringing the press in on this?" Face grinned as they shoved him by the arm through the doors and into the air conditioned building. "That's great. But you know, I _really_ need a shower before I'm ready to face the TV cameras because I just had a really _wild _night and -"

"You just keep laughing, Peck," Fullbright interrupted him. "We both know how this is going to end."

Face chuckled. "With you explaining to your CO how I managed to escape from an Air Force base?"

"With you behind bars for the rest of your miserable life," Fullbright corrected.

"Ah. Well, forgive me; I was just speaking from previous experience."

The booking process was quick and relatively painless. There wasn't much that could've dampened Face's mood. This situation was a minor setback. The whole team was out there and they knew where he was. It would only be a matter of time before they came. Until then, he'd keep his eyes open for any opportunity to turn the situation to his advantage. In any case, the thought of them actually succeeding in getting him to trial, and what that would mean, was far from his mind.

A little bit of paperwork and an invasive strip search - he had a feeling Fullbright was getting more and more irritated by his good mood - and he was given a set of jungle fatigues to put on. Damn fatigues; he'd sworn he'd never wear these again. No matter. He smiled as he put them on. He'd be taking them off soon enough.

The cell they put him in was empty but for a bunk, sink, and toilet. He tossed the blanket haphazardly onto the bed before he turned back to the bars just as they rattled closed. He slipped his arms through as the unfamiliar soldier turned the key. "Hey, uh, where's a good place to call for takeout?"

A brief glare was the only answer he received before the soldier and the small crowd with him turned away. Face was alone. He heard a second door close and dropped his head forward against the bars, laughing quietly. Why was he laughing? He shouldn't be laughing. This situation was nothing to laugh about. But even standing in a prison cell, alone and in fatigues, he'd never been happier in his entire life.

He was in love.

*X*X*X*

"Hannibal?"

He turned to look over his shoulder at the woman stepping out onto the deck, holding herself as if she was afraid she might fall apart if she loosened her grip. He smiled reassuringly at her. "What can I do for you?"

"It's..." She hesitated a moment. "About Face... How are you going to...?"

She looked like she'd barely stopped crying in the past four hours, since Face had been taken from her home. Hannibal sighed, wishing he had the patience to deal with those kinds of emotions but knowing he didn't.

"I'm not sure yet," he said as he turned back to look at the ocean. "But I've got a few ideas."

"Like what?"

She was looking for something. Reassurance. Comfort. Something other than silence. Sometimes he forgot that these civilians didn't have the same unwavering faith in him that his team did. When he said he'd take care of it, his own team stopped worrying, for the most part. But Jessica could not. And while this situation was still well in hand as far as Hannibal was concerned, it was so far out of her realm of control that it terrified her.

He sighed as he set his cigar between his teeth and turned fully to face her, arms crossed loosely over his chest. "Ms. Summers -"

"Jessica," she corrected.

"Alright, Jessica, it's not going to do either of us any good for you to sit here worrying."

She dropped her head again, holding a hand over her face as the tears came again. Hannibal subdued the impatience that threatened the boundaries of his control.

"Please," he said firmly. Firmly enough, he hoped, that she would hear the order beneath the request. "Do us both a favor and go get something to eat. In fact..."

Maybe that was it. Maybe she just needed something to do. He took a step toward her, setting one hand on her shoulder and turning her towards the door as gently as he could.

"There is a kitchen right there. I know it's very... flowery right now. But we are all going to need to eat before we attempt any kind of a rescue."

She pulled away from him, tears still flowing as she attempted - and more or less failed at - a glare. "Don't patronize me."

"Then stop crying."

That _was _an order. And it caught her off guard for a moment. But she didn't argue.

"The MPs will be able to play nice with the Security Forces for a day or two before they get whatever paperwork they need to transport Face. Until they have that paperwork in hand, I know exactly where to find him. Now, you can either believe I'm going to get him out, or you can't. But either way, I am not going to hold your hand. You were a nurse in a combat zone. You know how to suck it up. Now do it. Or stay out of my way."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then, with her lower lip trembling, she turned and fled into the house - whether to pull herself together or so that Hannibal wouldn't see her break down, he didn't know. He sighed as he watched her go. Any other time, he would've probably had more patience. But right now, he had other things on his mind.

The fact of the matter was, this situation was very serious. He needed to think, and he didn't have a lot of time to do it. While it was true that Fullbright would wait on the paperwork, it was also true that they wouldn't keep him there any longer than necessary. Hannibal was sure of that. The base had plenty of security, but it wasn't the kind of security they'd need to manage Face. After all, he'd already waltzed out of lockdown in Ft. Bragg, and in and out of a dozen bases since. They'd definitely move him someplace else, away from potential support from the rest of the team. It was only a matter of time. And not much time.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

Lying on his back with one arm curled under his head, Face was drumming the fingers of the other hand on his chest. He'd checked the room thoroughly for anything advantageous in his escape, and found it very much empty. He had nothing to do but wait - for Hannibal, for the guards, for Decker and/or Fullbright to stop by for a chat. He wondered how long they would keep him here. Not any longer than they had to, he was sure.

While they'd been shoving him into the back of Fullbright's car, Heather had been on her way to the local precinct. They wouldn't hold her long. Twenty-four hours without charging her. Would they charge her? Probably not. Why bother? And once they let her go, they wouldn't re-arrest her for the same incident. As long as they let her out, she was home free.

Jess was probably going crazy. Daughter in jail, boyfriend in military custody. Face smiled. Boyfriend. He'd avoided that word like the plague for so many years. Funny how he didn't seem to mind it just now. God, she was beautiful. And last night...

It sure had been stupid to leave his car in front of her house. He knew better than that. He just hadn't even thought about it. Hadn't been thinking about much of anything. Even now, he wondered if he'd do it any differently knowing the outcome. Being in prison was sure unfortunate, but was it worth last night? His eyes slid closed, a blissful smile on his face. The importance of hiding from Decker paled in comparison to lying next to her. Was that what love was? Damn, he felt great.

But here he was, happy and in the stockade. Hannibal was going to kill him for being so stupid about the car. And - oops - for leaving Murdock alone in the beach house. Actually... Face frowned. More than likely, Murdock alone in the beach house was more his problem than Hannibal's. He was pretty sure Murdock wouldn't try to leave said beach house. But what he did while he was "caged up" there, and manic as all get out...

God, Jessica was beautiful.

How was he supposed to get out of here? Sure, Hannibal would come sooner or later. But he needed to do whatever possible between now and then to assist on his own behalf. He glanced around the room again. Nope, nothing he could do right now except pace this cell. And he had no interest in doing that.

He wondered what time it was. No window, no way of seeing how light it was outside. His eyes closed. He was drowsy, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the hour or the inactivity. Maybe he should do pushups or something. He turned his head and looked at the floor. Oh, hell no. Nice thought, but it wasn't going to happen.

Smiling, he closed his eyes again and breathed deep. He could still remember her scent, the way she tasted. The little moans and whimpers she made, the sound of his name on her lips. He realized his fingers had stopped drumming and turned to stroking on his chest, over the thick fabric of the camo shirt. He chuckled quietly, to himself. Just the thought of her lying naked and spread out before him... of going down on her...

He licked his lips as he felt the blood stir in his groin. Amazing. He hadn't been so worked up over a woman in... well... ever. She was different. She was... deeper. And somehow, it made _him _feel different. He didn't understand it. He didn't care to. With a smile on his lips, he let his thoughts linger on her as he breathed slow and deep, and quietly drifted off to sleep.

*X*X*X*

"You got a hell of an arm, kid."

James didn't bother acknowledging Hannibal. He just pulled his arm back and threw another penny into the ocean, as far out as he could.

"You play baseball?"

"No," he answered flatly. "I'm a nerd."

"Yeah, so I've heard. Dean's list, honors classes. On your way to UCLA with a 3.98 GPA and it's only your junior year."

The boy's arm stopped mid-throw, just before he turned and gave Hannibal a funny look, wary and yet curious. A slight, sad smile crossed Hannibal's face. Every time he saw that kid, he looked more and more familiar. At sixteen, he was probably almost as old as Face had been in Vietnam. Spitting image of him, too. God, that felt like forever ago...

"NYU," James finally corrected, completing his throw. "Or MIT. Heather's the one who wants to go to UCLA."

"What was the one class?"

"What one class?"

"The one that broke your four-point-oh."

"Why do you care?"

"Just curious."

James turned and stared at him for a moment, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Metal shop."

Metal shop? Hannibal almost laughed. He'd expected AP chemistry or advanced calculus. Not metal shop. "That's an elective."

"Yeah. So?"

"Why take it and not get an A in it?"

"Why not?" He was getting irritated.

"Because you're a smart kid."

"Yeah, heck of a lot of good it does me." Out of pennies, James bent to pick up a handful of rocks and began throwing them, one at a time, out as far as he could. "Face is in jail, my mom is a weepy mess, and the whole neighborhood watched my sister get hauled off to jail for a psych eval by some pompous jerk that _I_ let into the house."

Hannibal hooked his thumb into the pocket of his jeans as he turned to look out over the ocean. "Ah, don't sweat it, kid. If you hadn't let him in, he would've just kicked in the door. Decker's that kind of guy." He almost smiled in spite of himself.

James didn't answer, but he snapped the last rock into the water with such force his elbow popped loudly. Hannibal watched him quietly, intrigued. "You going to retake it?"

"Retake what?"

"Metal shop."

James turned and stared at him, clearly appalled by the suggestion. "Are you kidding me?"

Hannibal shrugged. "Just asking. I know I would've. Shame to lose a 4.0 for a shop class."

"You know, I don't get it." The kid's eyes blazed as he turned fully to face Hannibal, hands on his hips. "With everything that's going on, you're sitting here wanting to know why I didn't get a perfect grade in metal shop? What is your problem?"

Hannibal didn't answer. If the kid was anything like Face, Hannibal knew when to let him vent.

"Don't you have anything better to do? Aren't you, like, the leader of the... the famous A-Team?" He was choking on his anger, stammering as he waved his hands. "Go... Go do what you do! Rescue Face! And my sister, while you're at it. Don't sit here and lecture me about my GPA."

Hannibal's gaze was steady, calm. That frustrated anger was familiar. Not half as vicious as Face had been, but intense nonetheless. The boy kept it all inside until he couldn't hold it anymore, then it would all come out at once. Hannibal couldn't help but wonder how much the kid really was like his father. Just how much could he keep in there? He knew for a fact that the Face could hold it in for _years_.

"I'll get Face out of jail, if that's what you're worried about," Hannibal said calmly, with complete confidence. He continued almost reflectively, chewing the end of his cigar. "As for your sister, as long as she calms down, they'll let her go by tomorrow morning. Decker isn't going to care enough to go through civilian court proceedings. Especially if, like you said, he was firing his pistol in your house. That's against the rules. And a good lawyer is a stickler for rules."

James stared at him. For a moment, he was shocked. Then the anger took over. It was like watching a tidal wave come in. He fought for words, his jaw working a few times before sound came out. "Nice! Great! Now do you think there's something you could do about the rest of the shit, smart guy?"

Hannibal's smile was purely internal. He didn't cut the kid off, though he had ample opportunity. James was on a roll.

"Who the hell do you think you are, anyways!" Right on cue, the anger came at Hannibal like a fiery dart. "You know what? Screw you! I'm sick and tired of being reasonable and quiet and well-fucking-behaved! It doesn't ever... Nothing ever gets fixed! You want to play God, Mr. Know-it-all? Like you know what I'm thinking? Fine! 'Cause there's some explaining that needs to be done!"

Hannibal puffed on his cigar as he watched the rational side of the boy disintegrate into a flurry of emotion. It was easier than he'd expected to get the kid to open up. He wasn't sure if that was because of a greater willingness to _be _open or because or simply because the emotions were so frighteningly close to the surface.

"I would love to know how in the hell I can make it so the jackasses as school _forget _that the Army showed up looking for me on my lunch hour. Or maybe you could explain how in the hell I'm supposed to look at my sister knowing that I let them push her around like she was a piece of dirt!"

He was yelling, his hands clenched into trembling fists. Hannibal watched quietly, letting him continue, to come to a stop on his own. The way he was shaking, Hannibal half expected him to take a swing at him.

"Well? What do you have for that, huh? Or how about this one? How do I deal with the fact that the asshole I let in the house dropped me with one hand, but somehow my sister was able to kick the shit out of him and piss him off so bad he threw her in jail!"

James stopped abruptly, breath coming quickly, chest heaving, jaw clenched. His whole body seemed to be screaming conflicting information and feelings. He was actually trembling. But he didn't move. He didn't swing. He just stood there glaring daggers at Hannibal, as if daring him to say something - anything - to come back.

There was nothing the least bit patronizing in Hannibal's stare as he studied him, then finally lowered his head. "I'm sorry, kid," he finally said, sincerely. "I'm sure Face never intended for you to go through any of that."

"It's not Face's fault! I wanted them together! I kept setting them up! I let the Army in the house! I did nothing to help while they ruined everything! I left it for my _sister _to do! And what am I supposed to do now, huh? How am I supposed to -"

He stopped again. The steady gaze was making him uncomfortable. He lowered his head and pushed his glasses back up again. He took a deep breath before he started again. "It's all my fault."

The anger was fading, leaving a tangle of emotions in its wake. Hannibal gave them a minute to settle before he spoke again, quiet and calm. "Look, kid. I don't know what it is you think you could've done - or not done - to keep this from happening. But I know Face. And he knows the risks. You couldn't have put him in that situation if he didn't want to be there, if _he_ didn't think it was worth it. You weren't even the one who left his car in the driveway."

"No, but I saw it when I came home. Heather and I both did and we should've _said _something so he could've hid it. I should've thought about that!"  
"And that makes it all your fault?"

"Yes!"

Hannibal paused briefly, waiting for the rational side to come back. Finally, as James looked away, Hannibal pulled the cigar from his mouth and turned to look out over the Pacific.

"You know, the harder part of learning to take responsibility for your decisions is learning to let other people take responsibility for theirs. Without guilt."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You weren't even _walking_ yet when we got into trouble with the military. You're not responsible for where Face is right now."

"I might not've been responsible for it starting, but I could've stopped it from happening."

"No, you couldn't."

"You might have stopped this one incident - taken the bullet, so to speak. But ultimately, a person's choices determine who they are and how they'll fall. And people - even people you feel a need to protect - are responsible for their own choices. Recognizing that is by far the hardest thing about being a leader."

Hannibal watched the kid put the pieces together, and take the opportunity to really study him. He wasn't about to go into the depths of just how much harder that was. But he knew it intimately. But the kid wasn't just taking it at face value. He was trying to determine how to apply it. He was smart. Hannibal smiled knowingly. It wasn't just the looks, he realized. The kid _felt_ familiar. Different scars, different problems... but still so similar.

"I worked with a lot of kids not much older than you in Vietnam. And I can tell you that the issues are the same no matter where you go, no matter what you see. You're never going to save the world, kid. And you're never going to have complete control over your life no matter how much money or power you have. You change the things you can to make life more bearable - and to make sure you're able to sleep at night. And what you can't change, you leave for the people who can." Hannibal smiled, his tone lighter as he continued. "Like me."

James turned to look at him, brow furrowed. But still, there was hope in his eyes.

"I'm a little higher up the chain of command, kid. Let me deal with Face." And Decker. And Fullbright. Because that was the fun part. "But for _your _part, your mom could really use some support from you right about now."

James sighed. "Yeah, she's pretty freaked out. But she's 'being strong for the kids.'"

He managed to not roll his eyes, but Hannibal could hear it in his voice. He smiled. "Hang in there, James. It gets better from here on out. Unless, of course, you get caught up in war crimes; then it just gets more interesting."

James stared at him for a long moment, then managed a slight smile. Finally, he glanced up at the house. "I'd better go check on her."

Hannibal nodded, and watched him head a few steps up the beach, back straight and head up. He had something he could do now. He responded surprisingly well to the direction, even if it was pointing him in an area he didn't much care to go in. Hannibal could understand why he'd come out to the beach. He didn't want to be in there comforting his mother. He wanted to be alone. But he didn't hesitate. There was something about that that spoke volumes to Hannibal.

"Hey, kid?"

Hannibal didn't turn towards him, but made sure he spoke loudly enough for him to hear. It was only a second later that he heard him call back. "Yes?"

Hannibal hesitated for a long moment, then turned to face him deliberately. His tone was completely serious as he spoke, measuring every word. "Your father wasn't much older than you when I met him. And even way back then, I knew I could count on him to give me a hundred and ten percent on anything I asked of him."

His gaze was steady on James, searching him for any reaction, any indication of how he was taking the words. He saw the shock, though he wasn't entirely sure why the kid's jaw dropped. It didn't matter. Hannibal wasn't finished.

"I said I'd take care of this, and I meant it. But I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it'll be easy. I need to know how much I can count on you to give."

Very suddenly, James pulled himself together, clamping his jaw shut again. He took in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, then nodded and shook his head at the same time in a confused sort of neither-nor answer.

"All of it," he managed, nearly choking on the words. "Anything you need, Hannibal, I'm in."

Hannibal watched him for a long moment, then nodded before he turned away again, looking back out at the ocean. He needed a plan.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

James sat on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on this knees, chin in his hand, thinking. It was what he did best. And he always seemed to do more thinking when he felt like he should be _doing_ something instead. He looked at the clock for the third time in five minutes. It still wasn't ticking any faster. He sighed.

In the last eight hours, everything had changed. His world was a whole new reality now. One where his sister could be locked up, guns were fired near him, and the Army kicked in their doors. One where Face and Mom had finally stopped trying to convince each other that they didn't belong together just in time for Face to be gone - maybe for good, this time. Where someone finally admitted, point blank, that Face was his father, but only after he was dragged out of their house in handcuffs. Given the circumstances, the flowered kitchen seemed to fit right in.

Mom had gone home. Finally. She hadn't really wanted to, but Hannibal had insisted. James had been equally insistent about staying behind. He should've gone with her. He knew it. She needed him. But right now, there was nothing in the world he wanted _less _than to go home and sit across from her in the living room while she cried. Or, more likely, sit alone in the living room while she went up to her room and cried. She was an emotional mess. He couldn't blame her, but he wasn't really up for being her shoulder to cry on, either. Even if he knew he should.

Hannibal had been out on the deck, down to the beach, back again, for most of the afternoon. He wasn't talking. James knew better than to press, but he really wished he knew what he was thinking. How was he going to fix this? He'd said he would; did he mean that? _Could _he mean that? Face had always had a certain way of getting what he wanted. Was Hannibal the same way? He wished he could know that for sure. But the only memory he had of Hannibal was a kid's memory. It didn't do him any good in figuring out what kind of man he really was.

When he finally walked back into the beach house, it was because BA had arrived. James hadn't seen BA in eight years, either. But he remembered him well. There had been something about him, even back then, that had drawn James. A feeling of safety. Of course, seeing him through older eyes, he looked a little different. Not outwardly. He was still just as broad-shouldered, gold around his neck, clothes that Mom would've never let _him _wear. But somehow, the man was a bit more intimidating now than James remembered him. Odd. It would've made more sense if it had been the other way around.

After the prerequisite shock and awe over the flower-painted kitchen, Hannibal and BA had headed outside to the table and chairs on the deck. James sighed as he watched them go without so much as a glance in his direction. There had to be something - anything - he could do. But damned if he knew what it was. He couldn't even stop a guy who wasn't much bigger than he was from wrestling his sister to the floor...

Fury sparked at the memory - but it was impotent anger. He could regret the way he'd handled himself from now 'til kingdom come, but it wasn't going to change anything. And really, it had been no surprise. Unlike Heather, James had never picked a fight in his life. That colonel was military trained. In hand to hand combat, James didn't stand a chance. It had taken the guy two seconds to grab onto his shoulder and jab his other hand into James' throat. The bruise stillhurt.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he was startled by the sound of tapping on the sliding glass doors. Hannibal was motioning for James to join them. For a moment, he just stared back. What did they want him for? He got up quickly and made his way out to the two men on the deck.

"What's up?"

Hannibal gestured for him to sit. Shooting a quick glance between the two older men, he tried to glean information from their expressions. It turned out to be completely unnecessary.

"The way I figure it, we've only got until morning - maybe not _even_ that long - before they move Face."

James sat down slowly as Hannibal kept right on talking as if James hadn't just arrived on the scene. There was no attempt to change topics, no trying to sanitize the speech because of him. Surprised - but no less pleased - he gave Hannibal his full attention.

"If it was me, I'd do it in the middle of the night. Tonight, if possible. But Fullbright is cocky, and by the book, and Decker's not in charge. That works to our advantage. In any case..." James straightened as Hannibal leaned back, and eyed him carefully. "I may need your help on this one, kid. Think you're up for it?"

James stared. It took several tries before he found words, but he was nodding instantly, before he even had a chance to think about the implications. "Yes. Yes, I am. Absolutely."

Hannibal watched him carefully, scrutinizing him. There was a lump forming in his throat that he tried to swallow down. This was probably the first man - at least the first one he could think of - to truly treat him like an adult on the basis of... what? He didn't even know him. Face had long treated him like... well, like something more than a child. But that was different. Face knew him. Hannibal was actually letting him in on the conversation without knowing anything about him, really. James was so lost in his amazement that he barely heard the conclusion of Hannibal's sentence.

"... few hours."

"I ain't goin' on no plane, Hannibal."

"Who said anythingabout a plane?"

"You ain't gotta say it. I can see it in that look you get. And I ain't goin' on no plane."

Hannibal smiled, clearly amused, completely condescending. "BA, you're paranoid."

James watched with confused interest, forcing himself to follow the conversation rather than try and figure it out. If he thought too much about it, he'd get lost on the new things being said.

"I'm pretty sure we can force their hand," Hannibal continued. "Get them to move on my say. But we need to have everything - and everyone - in place before we can attempt it. That's going to take some planning. And, just as importantly, we need to give them a false sense of security, and tell them what to think. That's where you come in."

James sat up straighter as Hannibal addressed him directly. The man looked so relaxed, as if he was discussing the weather or the latest good movie he'd seen. Distinctly _not_ like he was discussing the possibilities for breaking his friend out of jail. And not just any jail. One that was on a military base. And they were military fugitives.

"They're going to be expecting us. We need them to expect us in a certain way. That way, we'll have a much better guarantee of their reactions."

James nodded, hiding his terror quite well. He was scared of what Hannibal might ask him to do, but more than that, he was scared of what might happen if he failed or, worse, if Hannibal decided it was a mistake to ask him, and changed his mind. Cool and calm and watching James like he could see right through him, Hannibal smiled. He wasn't looking through him; he was looking into him - right down to where no one looked, not even James. The look made him anxious. Hannibal was the leader of the freaking A-Team. He knew what he was doing, right? And he wouldn't have started this conversation if he didn't intend to finish it.

"I don't want to put you in harm's way, kid. I don't know you well enough to know your strengths and weaknesses, and I don't have time to _get _to know you. Push comes to shove, this isn't your problem. And I don't want you getting any ideas of putting the success of this mission above your personal safety, because you're only going to create more problems for us. And I'm not just talking about getting shot. We _are_ fugitives. There _are_ penalties for aiding us. It's a federal crime, and you're already primed for an arrest. Like your sister."

James scowled. "I don't mean to be rude, but this is my problem too, Mr. Smith."

"Call me Hannibal."

"Fine. Hannibal." Were it under any other circumstances, James would've felt elated at the invitation to use the much older man's first name. But right now, he had other things on his mind. "They came in my house, pushed around my sister. He punched me, scared my mom, and took Face away while I watched. So it's my problem, too."

"Just setting down the ground rules, kid."

James wiped the palms of his hands on the front of his pants. They were sweating, his heart beating loudly in his ears. "I'm not stupid," he said firmly. "I don't want to go to jail and I sure as hell don't want to get shot. But you need help and I'll do it. Just give me a chance."

He stopped himself short of saying please.

Hannibal smiled around his cigar. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if I wasn't planning on giving you a chance, kid. But I don't want to see you in trouble with the law, either."

"Like my sister is?"

"Your sister should be fine. But if you go waltzing onto a military base and start breaking the rules, they may well come after you. On that base, they have authority. They _will _lock you up."

Waltzing onto a military base? Breaking rules? James' heart beat faster. Holy cow, what did Hannibal have planned? When Hannibal had said help, James had thought maybe he was going to draw a map, or drive them somewhere. This was more than he'd bargained for. But he _had _said he was willing to help. And Hannibal thought he could do it. That had to count for something.

His stomach was roiling at the thought of jail, of being shot, of facing those officers. But he ignored it. He concentrated instead on the intense blue eyes assessing his every move. Swallowing his nerves and gathering himself up, he held his head high and stuck his chin out as Hannibal continued.

"To your advantage, you're still a minor. But frankly, I don't want the headache. So if we do this, we do it my way. _Exactly _the way that I say. That's part of giving me a hundred percent. You don't run off on your own, for any reason. You stick to the plan. And if that means you miss an opportunity to do something great, I'll never hold that against you. But if you deviate from the plan, and something goes wrong, that I _will _hold you responsible for."

James nodded slowly, seriously. "Don't deviate from the plan. I understand."

"So what's the plan?" BA asked flatly. Clearly, from the way he was looking at Hannibal, he'd heard this very same speech a very long time ago. That somehow managed to make James feel very... important.

Hannibal was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he leaned forward. "James, you're going to go to that base and offer your assistance in capturing the rest of us. And that is to be your story no matter _what _happens. Are we clear?"

James stared at Hannibal for a moment, thinking about what he had just said. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to put the pieces together. But the complexity of the puzzle only served to deepen his respect for the older man. Once again, James pushed his glasses up and nodded.

"We're clear."

"Good." Hannibal grinned as he leaned back again, reclining comfortably. "So you got a B in shop class."

James shifted anxiously. Why bring that up? And why did Hannibal's smile grow so broad when he did? "Yeah. So?"

"How'd you do in stage acting 101?"

*X*X*X*

"Someone here to see you, Sir."

General Fullbright scowled, and didn't look up. "Tell him I'm busy. It's after seven o'clock. I'm not even supposed to be here."

"He says it's about the A-Team."

At that, Fullbright looked up. "Is the crew here to transport Peck?"

He already had the orders _to _transport him. He was just waiting for the crew to assemble. He wanted to fly out of here tonight, while it was dark, before Hannibal got any brilliant ideas for a rescue plan.

"No, Sir. It's a civilian by the name of James Summers. He says he has information on the rest of the team."

Fullbright hadn't been expecting that. He paused for a moment, evaluating. This smelled like it could well be one of Smith's plans. Would he use a kid? Fullbright scoffed at himself for even asking that. Of course he would use a kid. He would use anyone in his grasp.

"Anybody with him that might be Smith? Mounting some kind of rescue?"

"He's alone. He's at the gate. Should we let him in?"

Fullbright glanced at the clock again. Quarter after seven. He could give the kid a few minutes - just long enough to see what he wanted. Maybe he'd be able to find out if it really was a move from Smith. Besides, that crew should be ready within the hour.

"Check his car before you let him in. And have him escorted straight to my office."

"Yes, Sir."

The quick salute was followed by instant obedience, and Fullbright continued working on the massive amounts of paperwork on Peck's capture as he waited for the boy to be escorted in.

It was nearly a half hour later that the kid made it through the door, and stood still for a long moment. One good look at him was all Fullbright needed to tell that the kid was more than a little intimidated, and trying like hell to hide it. Smith was getting desperate if he was using someone so green. He should know better. He should know Fullbright would press him. And if he was here for Smith, Fullbright _would _know.

"General Fullbright, Sir?"

"That's me. What do you want?"

The boy took a deep breath and put his shoulders back, raising his head high. "I think we can help each other."

"I'm listening." He was actually listening harder than he let on, but the kid didn't need to know that. What was this kid's game?

"Colonel Decker put my sister in jail. You're his boss. You can help with that, right?"

Fullbright paused, and looked up, eyeing the kid for a moment. That didn't sound like something Smith would tell him to say. It was too... wrong.

"You're sister's not in military custody. You want to talk to her, go down to the local precinct. I can't help you with that."

"I know that. But all that stuff Decker said about obstruction of justice and whatnot. You guys would be the ones to press those charges, right?"

Fullbright hesitated for a moment. If this kid actually thought there was something he could do about his sister, he hadn't gotten that impression from Smith. Smith would know better than that. This sounded like a desperate, confused attempt by a teenage kid trying to make things right in his family. And maybe it was best not to look this gift horse in the mouth. At least until he figured out what the kid was offering. He _had _said he was here with information on the A-Team.

"Get to the point, Son."

Another deep, steadying breath. "You get my sister out of jail - make sure there's no charges, no record, no nothing - and I tell you how Hannibal plans on rescuing Face."

Fullbright raised a brow. "An interesting prospect. But why should I believe you? For all I know, he sent you in here to feed me false information."

The kid glared straight at him, eyes flashing at that. "I want my sister. I don't give a damn about anything else. I don't care what the A-Team did or didn't do in some war that happened before I was even born. All I want is for Heather to come home, my mom to get the hell over the military fugitive she's sitting at home all weepy and emotional about, and for things to go back to the way they were beforehe started hanging around my house. Why the _hell _would I want to help Hannibal Smith?"

Fullbright studied him for a moment, the way the boldness made him tremble just slightly. He wasn't lying. And, in a way, his explanation made sense. This whole scenario would have a tendency to wreak havoc on a sixteen-year-old's perfect little world. With a renewed interest, Fullbright folded his hands in front of him and waited for the kid to continue. Maybe there was something to this kid's information after all.

"Go on. I'm listening."


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

"All set, Colonel?"

Hannibal flopped into the passenger seat of the jeep and put his foot up on the frame where the door belonged. "Just waiting on James."

"Journey" was on the radio. Murdock had a can of Coke and a cigarette he wasn't smoking in one hand. The fingers of the other were drumming the steering wheel. Hannibal was leaned back in the passenger seat in full fatigues, eyes closed and face tipped up to the sunset. Murdock found himself smiling.

"You know, it almost makes you nostalgic."

Hannibal chuckled, but didn't open his eyes. He was the perfect picture of relaxation. Nobody would've guessed that he was actually a military fugitive, standing by to break another military fugitive out of the stockade. He was just a soldier, relaxing in a jeep with his buddy in the cool evening breeze.

"So you think Face learned his lesson about leaving his car on the street?" Murdock asked, glancing around at his surroundings out of habit. He'd pulled his cap low over his eyes, and any view of his features was obscured by the dim light anyways.

Hannibal chuckled. "I doubt it. I've warned him before about that."

"You know he's been over at her house a lot. It was only a matter of time before Decker caught wind of it."

"Yeah, well, Decker's not even supposed to be in the mix anymore," Hannibal replied. "Best I can tell, he's on his own time."

"Really?" Murdock rubbed the bridge of his nose and pulled back the sticky latex left over from the disguise he'd pulled off as soon as they'd gotten through the gate. It was ridiculously uncomfortable, and no one would recognize him as long as he kept a safe distance from Decker and Fullbright. He had no intention of going anywhere near either of them.

"Mmm hmm."

It was small talk. Meaningless conversation. Murdock took another drink from his can, fingers strumming a little quicker. He was getting antsy.

Finally, the door of the building opened. Murdock sat up straighter on instinct, then shrank down a little as he saw the MPs escorting James. "Uh oh, Colonel."

Hannibal opened one eye, but didn't move. "No, that's good. They're just escorting him off the base. And as long as he's with them, he clearly had no part in this."

Murdock turned his head away as James got into his car and the two MPs scanned the area before they did the same. They drove away, past the jeep. Murdock was careful not to make eye contact. As they disappeared out of sight, Hannibal gave James a few minutes to get off the base, then grabbed the roll cage and pulled himself up.

"Well. Ready, Captain?"

Murdock beamed. "Ready as I'll ever be."

His heart actually fluttered as Hannibal withdrew the remote detonator from his pocket and held it up. They exchanged glances and grins, and the push of a button was followed by a half dozen small explosions... and two really big ones as the empty cars in front of the office exploded into bright, scorching balls of flame and smoke.

*X*X*X*

Fullbright hit the floor of his office before he even realize why. Once he put two and two together, he was immediately on his feet again, scrambling for the door.

_ "They're going to set off bombs all around the base."_

The kid's words were still ringing in his ears. As they damn well should be. He'd just left no more than ten minutes ago! Throwing open the door, he yelled at the subordinate men in the front office. "Get up! Get up! Get Colonel Decker here right now!"

_ "All of those bombs are going to be inside the perimeter. They might even be here already. It's been about three hours since I heard him talking about it."_

The men were scrambling. Fullbright could hear more explosions. He ignored them by sheer force of will. "You! Get General Optim on the phone right this minute and tell him the A-Team is attacking the base and we have to move Peck right this minute! You! Go to the hangar and tell them to get a transport plane on the runway _now_! The rest of you come with me!"

_ "In all the confusion, while you're trying to figure out what's going on, running around and putting out fires, they're going to blow open the wall of the stockade and take him away."_

Stumbling out the front door, Fullbright shielded himself instinctively from the heat of the two flaming cars right by the doors - the ones they _would've _taken to the stockade if not for the fact that they were useless. "Confusion" was an understatement. There were still explosions going off. Where the hell had they gotten so many explosives?

The Jeep that pulled up in front of him, screeching to a stop, was driven by a half-dressed, startled-to-action Colonel Decker. "It's the A-Team!" Fullbright cried. "They-"  
"I know that!" Decker yelled back. "Get in!"

*X*X*X*

Face was ready. He was pacing. He wasn't sure what was going on out there, but he was sure that Hannibal was responsible for it. He fully expected, when the door at the end of the hall opened, that it would be Hannibal stepping through it. He was genuinely surprised to see General Fullbright instead.

"Alright, let's move!"

Face raised a brow, curious. "Going somewhere?"

"We're _both _going somewhere," Fullbright answered. "I'm not letting you out of my sight!"

As the Security Forces sergeant opened the cell, Fullbright withdrew his pistol and gestured for Face to get out and walk. "Move! Now!"

Face hesitated a moment. If it was Hannibal - really, how could it _not _be Hannibal? - Face wasn't sure of the plan. Should he resist? Buy time? Was Hannibal counting on them moving him? The guns on him made resistance a little bit hard, but he was in no hurry as he stepped out of the cell.

"Don't suppose I might be able to get that phone call now?"

"Walk," Fullbright ordered, a step behind him. "And I am watching every move you make so don't get any crazy ideas."

Face had a number of crazy ideas for how he might get himself out of this situation. But as he heard the explosions outside, he smiled to himself. Whatever crazy ideas he could concoct, he was pretty sure Hannibal's was crazier. He wouldn't pass up an opportunity to escape, but he'd watch and see what Hannibal had in store.

*X*X*X*

"Security Forces," Murdock noted, watching out of the corner of his eye as Hannibal shoved his arms into the flight suit. "I'm surprised Decker ain't trying to do it all himself."

The men who were guarding the plane looked more like highway patrol than military personnel. Their uniforms set them apart from the rest of the soldiers on base. "They probably have the MPs escorting Face," Hannibal said, checking the black wig in the mirror to make sure it looked natural before he grabbed the flight helmet off of the passenger seat.

The entire area was in chaos. No one even seemed to notice them as they raced to put out the fires. A crowd was gathering. They probably only had a minute or two before they pulled Face out and brought him to the guarded plane. Everything had better be in place before then.

"Ready for this, Captain?"

Murdock smiled, turned, and gave a full salute. "Ready, Colonel."

Hannibal grabbed the papers off the dashboard and started toward the plane with a confident stride, walking right up to the armed guard positioned around the plane. There was no longer any ambiguity about _which _plane Decker and Fullbright would be using this evening.

"Who are you?" The question came almost as soon as they were within shouting distance.

Hannibal gestured with the papers in his hand, then stopped for a formal salute as he stepped up to the armed guard. "Major Tom Wilson," he introduced himself. "I've got orders to pilot this plane."

The soldier eyed him warily as he took the paper Hannibal extended. "Pilot's already on board."

"Yes, I know. General Fullbright wanted us to switch out."

"Why didn't I hear anything about it?"

"Nobody did. These orders are hot off the press."

"Safety precaution, Sergeant," Murdock said. "Even we didn't know until about five minutes ago."

"Who are you?"

"Co-pilot," Murdock answered. "Lieutenant John Rutlidge."

"Yeah, can't be too careful," Hannibal prodded, reaching out a hand to accept the orders back. With some hesitation, the sergeant placed them back in his hand. "The more spontaneous we keep things, the less likely they can anticipate our plans and make plans of their own. General Fullbright is brilliant, really."

"Well, clearly, the A-Team has some tricks still up their sleeve, to pull off this kind of chaos," Murdock said, gesturing around. "I think we'll all be a lot better off once this transport is over."

"Alright." The sergeant nodded to them both. "Go ahead. But hurry up. The general said he wanted to leave right away."

*X*X*X*

It was entirely too easy, and that was precisely what had Colonel Decker on guard. The walk from the stockade to the jeep, and from the jeep to the plane was uninterrupted until, just before he was escorted up the steps, it suddenly occurred to Lieutenant Peck that he was not getting rescued. The stall tactics hadn't worked. And they wouldn't have, even if he'd started them earlier. Running didn't work, either. In the end, they'd dragged him onto the plane in handcuffs, fighting the whole way, and he'd settled anxiously, looking around him for anything he might use to his advantage to get free.

He wasn't going to find anything.

"I am going to see to it that charges are filed for every bit of damage the A-Team did to that base."

General Fullbright was pacing. The plane really wasn't big enough for him to do that. Not when it was holding the two of them, Peck, and ten MPs of various ranks. Crane was not among them, though a part of Decker sincerely wished that he had been. He deserved to be present when they turned Peck over. He deserved to be a part of it, to be recognized.

"You're the first," Fullbright addressed Peck. The lieutenant only scowled back at him. "But you won't be the last. I'll see to it that Smith and Baracus are brought to trial right along with you. It's a disgrace what you-"

"Give it a rest, General," Peck sighed. "This plane isn't big enough for you and your soapbox."

Decker smiled. Kid always did have a mouth on him. Decker could remember all the way back in Vietnam, he'd been a smart ass. Just like Hannibal. Like he took lessons in how to be a frustration to anyone who rubbed him the wrong way. Hannibal would always be the master at that. But Peck...

Decker found himself chuckling as he recalled all of the times they had been face to face and the A-Team had simply walked away. Hannibal had orchestrated all of that, always in such a way as to make Lynch, Decker, Fullbright, whoever, look like a complete fool. It had really been quite hilarious to hear about Fullbright's escapades with the team at the Mission de la Paz.

How did Smith do it? Over and over again, he had made a fool out of the military, and everything Decker held sacred. Decker fought to subdue the snicker that was bubbling up inside of him at that, but he couldn't. As he glanced up at Fullbright, fully expecting a reprimand for the fact that he just found this whole thing so damn funny, he was surprised to see Fullbright chuckling.

"You... why..." Fullbright was still looking at Peck, but that commanding tone in his voice had been replaced by snickering that was turning quickly to outright laughter. "You have made a complete mockery of every..."

He couldn't go on. Decker heard his laughter, and he joined in. All of them were laughing. And it wasn't long before they were laughing hysterically - too hard to get a full sentence out in one breath.

"I... am... going to jail for... a long time!" Peck cried, holding his sides he was laughing so hard.

"That's right!" Fullbright was practically rolling on the floor. "You are!"

"This is your pilot speaking." The smooth, familiar voice of Hannibal Smith was almost inaudible through the howls of laughter. "I hope you all are enjoying the flight. We hope you will sit back and enjoy your brief journey with us. We will be landing in Arizona desert in just a few moments. But so that this does not cause you any anxiety, we have decided to help you relax by filling the cabin's ventilation system with nitrous oxide."

"Damn!" Decker was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe. "It's Smith!"

"We're in a lot of trouble!" Fullbright answered.

"More than you know!" Peck was barely able to get the punch line out between his fits of hilarious laughter. "Hannibal doesn't know how to fly a plane!"

Somehow, that just made the situation all the more hilarious. Sides hurting, barely able to breathe, Decker doubled over in a giggling fit as he realized that he was going to be spending the rest of his life pushing papers in Antarctica.

*X*X*X*

BA saw the plane coming a long ways off. It was hard to miss, with as low as it was flying. He smiled as he got back into the van and pulled out onto the long, flat stretch of desert road. For once, Hannibal had actually been telling the truth about the plane. He really hadn't wanted him to fly!

The loud _whoosh! _of the plane overhead was followed by the screech of tires on the empty road. BA drove fast to catch up. It wouldn't be too long before they had another plane out here to investigate, and they needed to be long gone by then. By the time he pulled to a stop, the door was open and Hannibal was stepping out into the desert sun with a smile on his face and a cigar between his teeth.

"BA, it was brilliant!" he announced. "Really! You should come see this!"

He could hear the laughter inside the plane, but he had no desire to see it. That would put him _in _the plane, and he wasn't about to take that kind of risk.

Face was punch drunk, laughing hysterically as they led him from the plane without so much as a shot. Hannibal smiled as he handed BA a couple of pistols to add to their collection.

"Like taking candy from a baby." He was grinning so wide around his cigar, his face probably should've cracked.

As Face fell into the seat behind Hannibal, then to the floor, rolling, BA eyed him warily. "How much of that stuff did you give him, anyways?"

"More than the recommended daily dose," Hannibal said, chuckling himself as he watched Face laugh like he had never laughed before.

"Well, hey, if it doesn't wear off, he can always come stay with me at the VA," Murdock suggested with a grin of his own.

As Murdock shut the side door, BA pulled away. He had to admit, Face's laughter was a bit contagious. He'd never seen anyone laugh that hard and that long - least of all Face. And the sight of it was enough to make him smile.

"Ah, I love it when a plan comes together."

"Hey, Colonel, can I ask you something?" Murdock asked, leaning in towards the front seats. BA watched him in the mirror between quick glances at the road and at laughing Face.

"Sure."

"Why did you send that kid in there?"

"James?"

"Yeah." Murdock's voice was full of curiosity and amusement. "Him going in to talk to General Fullbright didn't really change anything at all."

"You're right. It didn't."  
"So why take the risk?"

"What risk? You just said he was inconsequential."

"Not to the plan. To _him_. Fullbright could've made him. Decker probably would've."

Hannibal shrugged. "I don't think either one of them are petty enough to try and make an example out of him. Especially when they can't prove anything."

"Even so. Why involve him at all?"

Hannibal paused for a long moment, and looked back at Face, who was trying very hard to stifle his laughter, both hands over his mouth. Hannibal chuckled at the sight, then looked back up at Murdock. "Do you remember what it was like to be young, Captain? To feel that need to be important? To be taken seriously?"

Murdock smiled. It was all the answer he needed. Hannibal had always been good at that. Not just at taking kids seriously, but knowing how to handle them. They had all been kids when he'd found them. Some of them had been a little older than others, but it made no difference in the end. In the end, every one of them had been "raised" to adulthood, into the meaning of life and family and the things that were really important by Hannibal Smith. And if they were one of the most functional dysfunctional families ever, that was A-okay.


	29. Chapter Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Face stepped in through the front doors of the VA clinic with complete confidence and a smile on his lips. The front receptionist pointed him in the right direction for Jessica's office, and he was pleased to see that the waiting room was nearly empty.

"I'm looking for Dr. Summers?"

He went through the necessary rigor about appointments and the necessity of having one, never breaking his smile. Dr. Summers was through seeing patients for the day. That was good; he'd been counting on it. All he really needed to know was which door she would be coming out of, but it took every ounce of his not-inconsiderable charm to pry that information out of the overworked receptionist for the orthopedic wing.

He waited inconspicuously at the locked door, and caught it with his toe as someone stepped out. A moment later, he slipped through and down the narrow hallway. The station in the center of the exam rooms was nearly empty; most everyone had gone home. It was another thing he'd been counting on.

He smiled as he leaned against the wall, one hand in his pocket and the other loosely holding a single, long-stem red rose. Jessica wouldn't see him until she turned, but the nurse at the station had a clear line of sight. It only took a few seconds for her to catch sight of him and give a startled, "Can I uh... help you?"

Jessica turned, chart like a shield, and her mouth immediately dropped open.

He smiled at the startled reaction - the way she had suddenly forgotten even to breathe - and remained still for a long moment before pushing off the wall and walking slowly toward her. "Dr. Summers?"

He came close, but didn't touch her, just held out the flower to her. It took her a few seconds to close her mouth, blink her very wide eyes, and take it.

"Y-... yes?"

"I'm afraid I'm about four days late on my appointment. Was hoping we could reschedule."

She finally remembered to breathe. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she stammered for a moment with a reply. "I... um, yes. I, uh... I have a moment right now, actually."

She cleared her throat, turned to the nurse behind her, and forced a professional tone. "Linda, can you please call the hospital to confirm Weisman's surgery for tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure thing."

At least Linda seemed perfectly relaxed. Face gave her a polite smile and nod as he followed Jessica to one of the exam rooms and closing the door behind him carefully. "Miss me?"

She dropped the forgotten chart on chair and turned to look at him as if she couldn't believe he was really standing there. "Yes," she said, her voice reflecting that same bewilderment.

He let her fingers brush his cheek as she reached up to touch him, to reassure herself that he was really there. He certainly didn't mind the touch. But it kindled that feeling that was growing inside of him. He was quiet, still, simmering, watching her... until suddenly he couldn't do it anymore.

He put one arm around her waist, one hand in her hair, and turned to push her against the wall. Her surprised gasp was muffled as his mouth was suddenly on hers, claiming her. She made a soft sound that was nothing like a protest and he slid one leg between hers, pulling her down on it until his thigh was rubbing between her legs. He could feel himself hardening already, and feel her brief, startled hesitation turn to response as he kissed her deeply.

He was gasping for air as he pulled back, panting with his lips against hers. "I haven't seen you in four days and it feels like four years," he rasped. His hands moved to her waist and pushed up her sides, under her shirt, along her smooth, warm skin. "God, Jess, what have you done to me?"

Dropping the flower to the floor, she ran her hands up his arms, feeling the tense muscles in over his shoulders, down his back. "Face, I missed you. I was afraid you..."

She didn't finish. He wasn't listening anyways. His breathing was ragged as he pressed his lips to her ear, hands moving all the way up her sides and around her back. "You've got about five seconds to suggest a suitable alternative to me doing you right here against this wall."

"The um..." She was breathing too hard to speak normally. "The exam table."

He pulled her away from the wall and pushed her back. By the time he got her to the table, he had her pants loosened. He pushed them down, past her hips, then moved his hands under her shirt, cupping and caressing her breasts through her bra. She moaned softly, arching her back towards his touch.

As he turned her, his hands remained there. He dropped his head to kiss and nip the side of her neck, pressing his hips forward. He was still fully dressed, but he could feel the warmth of her body even through his clothes. He could also feel the way she tensed when he turned her away from him. Not sure why, he slowed for just a moment as he pressed his lips against her ear, sliding one hand down until he found her heat, caressing lightly.

"You alright?"

She gave a small whimper. "Oh, Face, we're going to get caught..."

"Do you want me to stop?"

God, he _prayed _she didn't want him to stop.

Several seconds. She was debating. But finally, she shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Don't stop. I want you."

Thank God.

He held her ribs as he pushed her forward gently, but firmly. This was already taking too long. He'd not felt so impatient, so much _need_, since he'd been a teenager. He could already feel his erection throbbing, straining against his jeans. Forcing himself to slow, he hooked his fingers into the top of her panties and drew them down. Then, with one hand holding the small of her back, the other unclasped his belt and unzipped the front of his pants.

It was a long, steady, _hot_ slide all the way into her.

"Face..."

His hips were already starting to thrust, instinct taking over. He dropped his head back as he held her hips, thrusting into her, matching the pace she set as she rocked back on him. Footsteps on the tile hallway. His eyes flickered to the door - he knew damn well it didn't lock - but he didn't stop. Splaying his hands over her back, he touched her everywhere he could reach.

The sound of his breathing was loud enough to echo in the quiet room, but he bit back the urge to groan every time he touched her core. He shut his eyes hard as he felt his control slipping. "Don't make a sound, Jess," he whispered. "I don't want you to make a sound."

The faint whimper she gave and the scraping of her nails on the table was the only acknowledgment she gave. His hips jerked hard against hers, and he felt the pressure building, tightening. Too close, and he didn't have the willpower to hold back. "I just want to feel you... feel you come..." The thoughts weren't coming together right. Confusion, lost in pleasure. "Come for me... Hard... God, Jess..."

He couldn't hold back his gasp as he felt the pleasure crest. His world went white as her muscles clamped down around him, and it took every bit of control he had to keep from crying out with the release. All of the tension, the anxiety, the danger and the threat of who he was and the life he lived disappeared. There was nothing but pure, unadulterated bliss as he came hard, thrusting into her until he could feel his muscles give out. Everything untensed, and he fell forward, sliding out of her as he braced himself on his arms, one on either side of her, and just breathed.

"Oh, Face... I... How...?"

The knock on the door made him jump, and he was standing straight, reaching for her pants. He got them _just_ over her hips and whipped her around to face him - her back to the door - as it cracked open.

"Dr. Summers?"

Jessica's eyes were wide with shock and panic. But Face was a study in innocence - polite expression, half smile. No one would guess that ten seconds ago, he had been buried to the hilt inside of her. Unless they knew him well enough to see amusement in his eyes.

It took Jessica a second to pull herself together and look over her shoulder at the nurse. "Yes?"

"I'm going to get out of here. Those papers are waiting for your signature at the station. You should see them. Have a good evening."

"Alright. Thank you."

If she noticed anything at all strange, she didn't let on. She disappeared back out the door, closing it behind her, and Face let out the breath he was holding with a loud, relieved laugh. Jessica, on the other hand, sagged, putting her hand over her eyes.

"Face, that is so not funny."

He chuckled, grabbing her wrist gently and taking her hand away from her eyes. "Will you relax?"

"I could've lost my job if -"

"You're going to have to get used to that, you know."

She stared at him. "Used to what?"

"Not getting caught. I'm very good at it."

She opened her mouth as if to speak. But clearly, she didn't know what to say. He smiled as he released her wrist and put both hands on either side of her face, holding her as he kissed her slow, deep. As he pulled away from her, he was already envisioning all the ways she had yet to experience not getting caught.

She smiled at him, and leaned in for another brief kiss before she pulled away and fixed her pants. "I have to finish with my paperwork," she said with obvious reluctance.

He made no attempt to straighten his own clothes. Instead, he slipped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him in a warm, protective embrace.

"I did miss you," he whispered. "A lot."

She sighed contentedly, resting her head on his shoulder as she returned the hug. "I missed you, too."

"How long will it take you to finish up here?" He could still smell the sex as he breathed deep, and turned to kiss her temple. It made him smile. "'Cause I'm not anywhere near done with you yet."

She looked up at him in surprise. "You're staying the night?"

He smiled back. "Well, I was thinking we'd get a nice hotel or something sort of... anonymous. Probably not too smart for me to hang out at your house for the next few," he sighed with regret, "weeks."

"Weeks," she repeated, stunned. "When Decker took you out of my house, I didn't know if I'd ever even see you again."

He laughed at that. "You're kidding, right?"

"I just couldn't dare hope."

Smile still in place, he finally reached down to fasten his pants. "I know I said everything was pretty uncertain, but you're not going to get rid of me quite that easy."

She laughed, shaking her head in amazement, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"How long do you need?" he asked again.

"An entire night alone with you..."

"How long?"

She breathed deep, and tipped her head up, meeting his gaze with a soft, loving smile. "Fifteen minutes."

He nodded, and kissed her forehead once more. "I'll wait."


End file.
